Gimme Shelter
by kurtswish
Summary: On a joyride out with friends, Blaine stumbles upon a man that would change his life forever. It is a time when changes are coming swiftly with Civil Rights laws and Vietnam on the forefront of everyone's minds. Finding each other and romance should have been the hard part, but what will two young men endure in the time of free love and war. Story is complete and update quickly.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Just a quick note before you start this journey with me: First of all i should warn you that Finn is in this story and his actions are not the best. However, I began this story long before Cory's death. I did think long and hard about whether to change it or not. I finally decided that the story should stay as it was.I respect Finn as a character and Cory as an actor, and his portrayal in this story had nothing to do with that, but thinking about what impact the difference in era would have on him as a character. Also be warned there is smut ahead.**

**This story is COMPLETE! I will try and post a chapter a day on weekdays but I can not guarantee postings on the weekend (Including Monday since it is a US Holiday) but i will try my best. The completed story is 22 chapters including an epilogue. **

**I would like to thank FallingIntoAWorldofLight on tumblr for the beautiful story art she created for this story. Isn't it absolutely amazing?!**

**I would also like to thank WordsAreMyLife on tumblr (TheCoolestGirl on Scarves and Coffee) for being a wonderful beta! She was a great cheerleader and helped fix all those pesky problems i didn't catch. I would also like to thank ****IamASuchAGleek for starting out betaing this story. I hope you enjoy the end and hope your mom is better!**

**If you would like to follow me on tumblr my name is kurtswish there, i will gladly answer questions and may post other story related things there from time to time if anyone is interested. I own nothing but the circumstances there characters find themselves in and the few small OC you find within.**

**Happy reading, let me know what you think!**

'Hey Jude', blasted through the radio as the car sped down the long-deserted road. The windows were rolled up, not just to keep out the slight chill of the March afternoon but also to combat the dust swirling up from under the tires from the dirt road. Three boys sang along loudly to the now familiar tune. Blaine leaned forward from his place in the back seat, belting out with Paul McCartney causing Nick and Jeff to crack up at their friends' antics.

"It's a shame the school won't let us sing this," Nick muttered, still miffed at Dalton's refusal to permit the Warblers from singing 'that undignified rock and roll''

"I'm not surprised though, if my parents found any of my records they would trash them for sure." Blaine said with a sigh leaning once again back into the seat. His voice became higher, obviously mimicking his mother, "it is indecent Blaine, when I was a teenager we only had respectful music on our radio.' The way she talks you would think the Beatles were inciting people to murder. And it's not just the Beatles either; I swear she nearly had a heart attack last year when The Doors were on Ed Sullivan. I was just glad she started letting me go back to Dalton Sunday nights so I could still watch."

The laughter that had just begun quickly halted as the car emitted a strange noise then soon died. Jeff was able to coast down the hill and maneuver the car to the side of the road. "Well, that's just great!" He exclaimed searching the landscape. The roadside only composed of trees and open fields. He looked over his shoulder at Blaine, "Wonderful idea you had to take the scenic route! Now look at us, stuck in the middle of nowhere."

Blaine patted his friend on the back, "Don't blame me man, it's your car that decide to up and die on us."

They piled out of the car and Jeff popped the hood.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked incredulously, "in case you've forgotten none of us even know the first thing about car repair. Dalton isn't exactly famous for their shop classes."

Jeff just shrugged as he bent over the engine, "I don't know I guess I hoped the problem would be evident. Besides, isn't this you are supposed to do when you break down?"

Blaine looked around as his two friends inspected the engine with faux experience. He spotted a few hundred feet in front of them the entrance to a small dirt road. His eyes followed the break in the grass, hoping it was what he suspected. Set far back into the trees, perhaps a mile from the road itself was an old white farmhouse. It was a driveway.

"Hey guys, why don't we go see if we can use their phone?" He asked pointing to the old building neither boy had yet noticed.

By the time the trio trudge up the driveway, having to carefully maneuver around potholes and grass burrs, they were beginning to sweat in their wool blazers. As they neared the house, they took in their surroundings. The side of the house hid an old pickup truck, a chicken coup clucked with life on its other side. A washboard and tub sat filled with murky water under a clothesline with dresses of various shapes, sizes, and colors flapping in the wind. The area was full of life, chickens pecking at the ground, a few goats milling about the yard, and cows mooing from behind the barn. However, they could see no farmer, his wife, or even daughters running around.

Blaine was just ascending the stairs to knock on the door when a deep, sharp voice called out from behind them. "This is private property, I suggest you leave now."

The three boys spun around to see a boy around their age standing with his arms crossed menacingly across his chest. His black hair hung down to his shoulders, framing his tanned face. He was shirtless under a black leather jacket. Dirty worn jeans, bell bottoms, a trend distinctly banned from the halls of Dalton, was the only other clothing gracing his body as his feet were also bare.

Jeff was the first to speak, "Our car broke down, and we were just hoping to use your phone."

"Sorry, we don't have one" the answer was softer, coming from right behind Blaine from the now open door. In the doorway stood a man, his jeans while belled, were crisp and clean. A bright blue mandarin collar shirt with clean, white, intricate embroidery made his pale white skin and blue eyes stand out. His hair was chestnut brown and though not as long as the other man's, swept against his collar.

He stepped out of the door, causing Blaine to inadvertently back away, giving him room to move. "I bet we can help though. Puck, why don't you take the truck down and tow them up so we can see what we can do to get them on their way."

The other man, Puck, seemed to want to argue, but after a pointed look from his friend, grumbled, "Alright, but one of you is coming to help me."

Both Nick and Jeff readily agreed, though Blaine suspected that it was not due to their wanting to help so much as not trusting Puck alone with Jeff's car. Blaine watched them cram themselves in the cab of the truck, Puck rolling his eyes at neither climbing in the bed. Once the truck grumbled to life, Blaine turned back to the man in the doorway. A small smile played on his lips as he watched the truck bump its way down the driveway. Blaine swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat as his eyes traced the features of the man's face.

"I'm Blaine," he spoke finally, holding out his hand to the stranger.

A chuckle sounded before the other man's name followed, "Kurt," but he did not take Blaine's hand to shake. "It will take them a while to get the car back here; I was just going to get the get the others. Do you want to come?"

They made their way behind the house and down a tiny path in silence. Blaine was searching his mind for something to say. "So, something tells me Puck isn't your brother." He finally decided on.

Another twinkling laugh filled the air before Kurt answered. "No, well not my real brother anyway. We are a self made family if you will."

"How many of you are there?" Blaine asked as they made their way into the trees.

"Eight right now, there are two more that sometimes stay with us. Well, they all tend to come and go as they please. The only ones who you can always find here are me, Quinn and Beth."

Blaine knew what this meant; he had had enough friends succumb to love to know the signs. The clear affection in his voice when Kurt spoke of Quinn and Beth he knew one of them must at least be his girlfriend, especially if they were the only other ones here on a permanent basis. "So, which one is your girlfriend?" He asked sneaking a glance at the boy whose face became a mask of confusion.

"What do you mean?" He asked stopping their movement.

"Quinn or Beth, which one is your girl?" He asked again hoping to be clearer.

Kurt chortled, the clear bright sound echoing off the trees. "There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"Hamlet," Blaine exclaimed, probably with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. A faint blushed flared up his cheeks and he couldn't resist the urge to rub his neck as if it would rid him of his embarrassment.

Kurt gave him a dull smile though, "Yes, I am we'll aware. I may be a hippie, but I am a cultured one."

Embarrassment flared again in Blaine, "No, it's just that is my favorite play. Most of the guys think I'm a dingbat for liking it... It was just nice to know I'm not the only one who seems to enjoy the Bard."

Kurt gave him a searching look, Blaine felt as if he was being examined, dissected, and feared he would be found wanting. Finally Kurt spoke, "Huh, who knew prep schools were just as uncultured as the rest of Ohio, hell, most of the nation." Before Blaine could even fathom a response, Kurt's eyes flickered ahead. Soon the trees parted and Blaine caught his first sight of the other farm inhabitants. A large black girl in a long flowing dress swayed in the clearing, singing 'The Sound of Silence' while an Asian couple seemed to be dancing, wound around each other exchanging kisses as no one seemed to pay them any mind. A short Brunette sat behind a blonde braiding her hair. What surprised Blaine the most was the blonde's chest was exposed and a tiny baby was latched there eagerly nursing.

Blaine waited for a surge of emotion to hit him. He had spent the last four years in a boarding school, and had heard many tales over the years of his peers' quests to see the most intimate parts of the opposite sex. True, these tales had never held much interest for him, he supposed he was as his mother loved to point out when relatives would comment on his shorter stature (especially when compared to his brother Cooper) a late bloomer. He had, however dealt with the same problems as all boys, waking up hard or just succumbing to a wet dream. Dreams of faceless, shapeless pleasure, that Blaine could never really remember after coming down from his high. He knew what a boner was, having them spring up on him at the most inopportune times. He waited for it to happen, but it never did. Instead, he felt nothing, and that was what made the blush creep up the back of his neck and color his face.

The blonde seemed to notice him then and pulled the side of her dress up over the breast that was not currently feeding her child. "Kurt, who is the blushing school boy?" She asked dully, raising her chin towards Blaine.

"We have some visitors, their car broke down. Why don't we all go back to the house I may need some help with dinner tonight."

This seemed to get everyone's attention. The Brunette seemed to bristle at the thought, "Do you think it's wise Kurt, we don't know them."

Kurt looked over at Blaine, measuring him up again, "They'll be cool. Just... no last names, just to be safe."

Kurt then turned and began to retreat to the house. Blaine sprinted to catching up with him as the others began slowly gathering their things to follow. "I'm not trying to be nosy, but what was that about."

Without turning back Kurt simply said, "When you live on the edge of society, when people spit hate at you on the street for choosing love above all else, you learn to play it safe." Not another word was spoken between the two.

An hour later, music was playing from a portable record player. Blaine was pleasantly surprised when Rubber Soul drifted through the farmyard as he watched Kurt inspecting the car. He had removed his shirt as soon as he popped the hood and got to work. Blaine couldn't seem to keep his eyes from him as he worked. He tried to ignore the stirring in his belly with each ripple of Kurt's muscles with every move he made. Now ten minutes later, he wiped his hands on the dirty red rag and turned to Jeff. "You know, if you took care of this baby, she could last you a lifetime, but you really need to take care of her. Your alternator is out, but it also looks as if you haven't properly changed the oil in her since you got her. I can fix it, no problem, but you will need to get the parts." He handed Jeff a piece of paper with everything he would need written on it.

"Dang it, how much is this going to cost?" Jeff asked looking at the short list of supplies.

Kurt shook his head, "Not much, fifty bucks at the most."

Jeff looked Kurt over again, "and how much for the work?"

"I don't believe in charging someone for their bad luck. Besides, I won't be able to fix it 'til morning." Kurt said with a shrug, seeing the boys' panic he explained. "It's almost dark, and in case you haven't noticed we are kind of living off the grid; no electricity, no phone, we do have running water though because we have our own well. Lanterns won't be enough to see by to get it done right. If you won't be missed you can crash here with us."

The three Dalton boys exchanged a look, "We were just going to surprise Nick's girlfriend. We are checked out of school for the weekend but none of our parents are expecting us." Blaine spoke up.

After pooling together their money, Jeff went with Puck to pick up the parts, leaving Nick and Blaine behind. Kurt left the yard, pulling on his shirt, calling to Rachel and Mercy. The brunette and black girl followed him in the house. The blonde, Quinn as she introduced herself, sat rocking her baby who was now asleep. The Asian couple, after looking around the emptying yard rushed off hands clasped and giggling, earning an eye roll from Quinn. Nick sat down on the trunk of Jeff's car, motioning Blaine over. Once Blaine was situated by his side, Nick began whispering.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Nick asked.

All Blaine could do was shrug before asking his own question, "Do we really have a choice? Besides what is there to be afraid of, they all seem like nice people."

"I don't know, I mean don't you think it is strange them living here with no modern conveniences. What if they're fugitives?" Nick said almost in a panic.

Blaine couldn't resist punching his friend in the arm, "Gee Nick, they're hippies not a gang of murderers. The worst they probably are is draft dodgers and that could only be the guys. What do you think the girls did?"

"I don't know, maybe drugs." Nick spat out unmindful of the volume of his voice.

"Not likely," a female voice sounded from beside them. They looked over to see Quinn standing there, baby still cradled in her arms. "Kurt wouldn't allow it; me neither for that matter. We're not squatters either if that is what you are thinking; this house is in my name. We all have reasons not to want to be found, though none of us are running from the law."

"We're sorry," Blaine said, feeling he had to speak for the two of them, knowing Nick all too well. "I guess you could say we have lived a rather sheltered life."

Quinn seemed to eye them for a minute, "Yes, well, perhaps you should remember that everyone has a story, and its best to let them tell it before coming up with one on your own."

"So what's your story?" Nick asked eagerly.

"Nope, you don't get to come here and learn the details of _my_ life just because Kurt seems to trust you, though, I honestly don't know why he does. It's not like you could understand any of us." She said turning her back on the two. Nick ran after her making apologies leaving Blaine alone on the car.

Night was falling when Puck and Jeff returned and headed straight into the house. Blaine sat there on the car still clutching his blazer tight around his shoulders. Everyone had gone into the house by now, save him. Blaine was left alone with his thoughts. The more they raced, the more he wanted to join into the pandemonium in the house to make his mind just stop. Nevertheless, try as he might he couldn't make the move to end the misery and confusion brought about by his brain.

His mind kept returning to Quinn's breasts, pert and on display unashamed, and his lack of response. His lack of response ever when the time seemed appropriate by all social standards. He was seventeen years old damn it. A healthy, seemingly well-adjusted seventeen-year-old boy. A boy who never once had a girlfriend, nor wanted one. Who found no interest in the Playboys smuggled into school by his friends. Whose boners only seemed to emerge in gym class or any other time there was not a female form in sight. A boy who had to bite his cheek earlier when Kurt was shirtless leaning over the engine of his friend's car...

His thoughts were interrupted by a weight landing on his shoulders. He turned to see Kurt draping a blanket over his shoulders. "It's getting cold out here; do you want to go inside?" He asked but the look on his face seemed to say he knew the answer.

"Not right now, I'm sort of in the middle of an existential crisis I think," Blaine said, shaking his head trying to get his thoughts in order.

"Do you mind if I join you while you try to figure out the meaning of life itself?" Kurt asked bumping their shoulders together. "It's just that Puck bought hamburger meat while he was in town with your friend and I can't stomach the smell of cooking flesh."

The sadness in Kurt's eyes brought all other thoughts in Blaine's brain to a screeching halt. "You don't eat meat?" Blaine asked turning fully to Kurt.

"I used to, until I started thinking about what that meant. I felt like a hypocrite speaking about how all creatures deserved life, yet eating flesh to sate my own appetite. I am not the only one here though Rachel is the same. I think everyone else is tired of only vegetables, bread, cheese and eggs. I don't fault them, especially now that our supply is running low. We only have potatoes and beans left over from the last harvest so..."

"Harvest?" Blaine asked, suddenly wanting to know more about life here.

Kurt smiled at him with such warmth Blaine almost forgot the silence Kurt had been giving him since the clearing. "We have a garden; it supplies most of our food. Money is kind of tight, not much coming in, so we do what we can to make it easier. It helps only having to buy dry good."

"What do you do for money?" Blaine had to know.

"I'm an artist... of sorts" Kurt told him ducking his head shyly, a move that almost felt out of place on the man. "When the others leave they usually sell them on the road or in bigger cities and send the money back. Plus, when they stay they help out as they can. Usually though, they need the money more."

Blaine's excitement grew the more Kurt talked to him. "Why don't you set up a studio, or go out and sell your own painting. I mean why stay here it's not your house after all, you're free."

"I guess technically you are right," Kurt conceded but the dark look on his face told Blaine this wasn't his entire story. "But I belong here. I couldn't leave Quinn all alone with Beth. It just doesn't seem right."

Blaine steeled himself for his next question, something that had been eating at him since the clearing. "Kurt is Beth your daughter?"

Kurt's laughter struck at Blaine in the silence, it seemed so out of place for the question. "No, I did not father Quinn's baby. Let's just say, Quinn and I am not compatible in that area. Come on we are eating in the clearing tonight, the table is not big enough for eleven. So come help me start a fire."

They worked in silence building a fire in the fire pit Blaine hadn't noticed before. By the time it was truly catching, voices broke the silence as the others made their way carrying dishes piled with food. Conversation flowed easily as long as they stayed on the subject of music, anything else that was brought up brought tension along with it. Nothing was said to bring the tension, it was more the undercurrent that a disagreement might be made. Blaine passed on the hamburger Jeff offered him, just so he could sit next to Kurt and not see the sick look as he watched the others devour the meat.

Eventually Puck brought out a guitar and like a well-rehearsed group they began singing. Soon Blaine joined in, followed by Nick and Jeff. It was nice until Puck played the opening to a song none of the Warblers knew. As it turned out, the others must have learned this protest song on their travels. Blaine listened to the lyrics liking the sentiment that it spoke. He was losing himself in the music when Jeff spoke up.

"I honestly don't understand why everyone is so against the war." It was a simple statement, and Blaine knowing Jeff, knew he didn't mean to offend. He really just didn't understand. The staff at Dalton frowned upon talk of the war, so most of the students didn't really understand why they were fighting, or why so many people seemed against it. All they knew was what, if anything, they heard at home, or if they were industrious, read in the newspaper.

The guitar twanged to a stop as Puck threw it down. "Easy for you to say Prep boy when it won't be you out there dying in the jungle. When it's not your friends out there on the front line. For what? Killing kids is not patriotic."

Jeff sat dumbstruck and the anger was palpable in the group. Blaine jumped as Kurt spoke next to him, "Puck I honestly think he doesn't understand. I don't think he was being critical."

"Then he needs to be informed!" Puck shouted at Kurt, "Just because he can hide behind his 1-S doesn't mean the rest of us have that luxury." He turned once again on Jeff whose eyes were wide and fearful. "How many friends do you have serving? How much family? Is the war going to be okay until you know someone over there? Until you know someone killing and on the verge of death every day? Until you know someone who dreads going to the mailbox because their papers might have come? Well congratulations, the war just got real."

"Puck!" Kurt said in warning, a warning that went unheeded.

"Because guess what prep school, you now know three lucky guys that couldn't get exempted from the draft. Do we have any less of a right to live than you?"

The movement beside him made Blaine jerk as Kurt stood. Power seemed to course through his body as he said sternly, "That's enough, Puck! He doesn't know." His voice softened, "he doesn't know Puck, and yelling at him is not going to help." A silent conversation seemed to pass between the two men. Puck bristled for a minute before bending down to gather his guitar.

"It's getting late; I'll show you boys where you can sleep." Kurt said. No one protested, they just gathered their things in silence.

When Blaine stepped into the farmhouse for the first time, two things struck him. First was how clean everything was. True, pillows covered the floor in place of real furniture in the leaving room, but everything was clean and inviting. The second was how colorful everything was. Bright colored paint covered the wall in flowers, symbols and swirls a stark contrast to the while peeling paint of the exterior. Blaine trailed behind Kurt up the stair with Nick and Jeff. Next to the stairs, an amazing sunset was painted. The details and colors pulled at Blaine's heart and he longed to stand there and drink it all in. He pulled himself away though to continue following the man who obviously painted it. He opened a door at the top of the stairs that was painted like the night sky. "This is my room; I figured you wouldn't want to sleep downstairs with everyone else." He told them gesturing them into the room.

"But where will you sleep?" Blaine asked, not wanting to displace him for their own comfort.

"I'm going to sleep outside tonight," seeing Blaine about to protest, Kurt spoke over anything he was going to say. "Don't worry I like it. It helps me when I need time to think."

Blaine took in his surroundings. The room was painted to look like a meadow, including the ceiling which showed the aurora borealis. The bed lay on the floor. Soft quilts and blankets spilled over the edge of the downy looking mattress. It looked inviting, but something else pulled at Blaine. He didn't want to sleep here with Nick and Jeff. They were his friends, but tonight he wanted to learn more about their host.

"Would it be okay if I slept in the clearing too? I have a lot on my mind; and what you said about it helping you think... I think I need that." Blaine said, ignoring the confused looks his friends were shooting him.

Kurt eyed him a moment before speaking, "Sure, if you want to, let me just grab some blankets and you can walk out with me."

Before they left the house for the night, Kurt asked Puck to stay with Quinn and Beth for the night. Quinn seemed more put out by the request than Blaine thought it warranted, as it seemed that Kurt was just looking out for them. They were strangers to this weird self-made family. He then made sure Mike was staying with the other girls in the living room. Once Kurt was assured everyone would be safe, they exited the house once more.

"I like what you did with the house." Blaine told him as they walked back to the fire. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think it was me?"

Blaine blushed, "You said you were an artist... I just assumed..."

Kurt smiled, "you were right, it was me... And thank you."

They laid out blankets in silence on opposite sides of the fire pit, close enough to take advantage of the warmth, but far enough away not to get too hot. Kurt sprawled out on his back, facing the night sky just visible through the limbs of the trees overhead. Blaine followed suit and they lay in companionable silence.

Blaine's mind raced from thought to thought. After such a short time at this place, so many questions demanded to be answered. Some questions had sat at the back of his mind for so long, but he refused to acknowledge them. He didn't want to have to face what the answers could mean. Others were new, most having to do with the man next to him. Without thought, one sprung from his mouth.

"Are you really in danger of being drafted?" He blurted.

Kurt looked over at him, and seeing the panicked look in Blaine's eyes, sat up to face him better. Blaine followed suit once more. "Yes," Kurt whispered. "Honestly, I thought I was safe. I mean I knew it was a risk only applying to Art schools, but it was what I wanted to do. I knew that Art school wouldn't earn me an 1-S. I tried to get an1-A-O as a contentious objector, but without a religion to back me up, apparently my objections to war are invalid. I couldn't even get a 1-Y, even though it is true. After the interview... I have never hoped for health problems before in my life. I'm as healthy as can be." A sad chuckle punctuated the statement.

Blaine could see Kurt's eyes sparkling with unshed tears in the fire light. He whispered his next question. "Do you know anyone serving?"

"A lot of guys from school, but only two I'm close with. Artie was drafted about six months ago, he was just sent to Vietnam. And um... Finn... Um... Finn enlisted after we graduated pretty much as soon as he turned 18. He was the closest thing I had to a real brother... But we really couldn't be more different. He sees it as an honor to serve, he wanted to go and fight." Kurt shook his head, and Blaine was almost sure he was trying to stop his thoughts from flowing. "How about you?"

"Puck was right, none of the guys I know who have graduated will be drafted. They all went to college. Hell, I haven't even had my evaluation yet and I know I am safe... Got my acceptance letter to Kent State last month. We are so sheltered... No wonder he hates us..."

Kurt shook his head, "Puck doesn't hate you, he's jealous. He tried everything to get out of this damn war too; they called him a coward. He's not. We're not. His mom was a survivor, an honest to god lived through Nazi Germany as a Jew, survivor. If this was World War II he would be one of the first to sign up, but it's not. We aren't the great American soldiers swooping in to save the day. Not this time. We all have our reasons not to want to go die in this war. Puck doesn't want to be a deadbeat like his dad. Mike... Well it's been hard for him; people assume he is Vietnamese, Tina too. They aren't and it shouldn't matter, they were both born here. Mike is Chinese, Tina's Korean, but people just see Asian and assume the worst. He fears for his life if he is sent to war, and not from the enemy."

"And you?" Blaine whispered. "What is your reason?"

A tension ran through Blaine's body at the passion in Kurt's eyes as he spoke. It was a sensation he couldn't name, but a feeling he never wanted to be without. "A bullet never taught anyone a lesson. It never brought peace. Violence isn't the answer to the world's problems. And we never will end suffering while we use it as the first course of action. War is the instrument of power, nothing more."

Blaine smiled. "I like that, I like that a lot."

Silence returned, and the pair lay down. Sleep over took Kurt first. Blaine lay across from him watching his features dance in the firelight. He couldn't help but think him beautiful, though he was clearly a man. After years of suppressing the idea, it was becoming clear to Blaine that he didn't want the soft womanly curves of the few girls he knew. He wanted strength and hard lines. He wanted long strong limbs. He wanted, desired, a man. The thought terrified him. One word echoed through his mind... deviant. But, even that word couldn't suppress the desire to kiss the slightly parted lips of the man sleeping across from him. That was the image that Blaine finally drifted off to sleep to.

When Blaine woke the next morning, he was alone in the clearing. Kurt's makeshift bed was gone and the fire had died sometime in the night. He made his way back to the house carrying his own blankets with him. Kurt was already working on the car.

"Morning," he greeted Kurt as he neared.

"Good morning, there is bread in the kitchen and fresh butter and milk if you want it. Quinn, Beth and your friends are already up." Kurt said, not extracting himself from the work he was doing. Inside Blaine made his way past the stairs and into the kitchen. The walls were swirled with color adding life and vibrancy to the space. Nick and Jeff sat at a purple table drinking milk and smiling over slices of fresh bread. It seemed the tension from last night was gone. Quinn stood at a wood stove, an old coffee percolator in her hand.

"Coffee?" She asked in greeting.

"Yes, please." Blaine said slicing off a chunk of bread and smoothing butter over it. He had just taken a bite when Quinn placed a mug of dark coffee in front of him. "Oh my god, this is the best thing I think I have ever eaten." He praised.

"Then I will have to pass on you compliments to Kurt." Quinn smiled. "I never had the patience for baking bread. Plus Beth is still up most of the night, so waking up a 5:00 to do the baking and morning chores is not something I do."

"Morning chores?" Nick asked eyeing the bread with clear want.

Quinn chuckled before pushing it over to him. "Every morning Kurt gets up, feeds the animals, milks the cows and goats, and gathers the eggs. When it's just us, he bakes about once a week. Right now there are just too many people so he has been baking every morning."

"What does everyone else do?" Blaine asked, annoyed for Kurt that it seemed he did all the work.

Quinn seemed to pick up on his annoyance and bristled a bit, "I take care of Beth and help out when he needs me too. The others do what they can when they are here."

Jeff and Nick took over the conversation. They found out that Beth was three months old, and that most of the group would be moving on today. Only Puck would be staying for another few days. Blaine was just finishing his second cup of coffee when Kurt entered the room. His chest was bare and an old pair of coveralls slung low on his hips, the top hanging down behind him. Blaine swallowed hard. Grease covered his hand and spotted his chest and face. He was a picture of masculinity and Blaine felt the effects immediately. The room seemed to heat up and he felt like everyone was staring at him, that they all _knew. _He scrambled to think of anything to make his body stop reacting to the sight. He focused on all the pictures in girlie magazines he had ever glimpsed, he thought of Quinn's breasts on display, he thought of war and Kurt being drafted. While the other thoughts had helped, the last one made is blood run cold and any lingering arousal disappeared.

Kurt finished scrubbing his hands and turned to the group. "It's all fixed; you can head out when you want."

Nick and Jeff both thanked him, and Quinn walked out with them. Kurt gave Blaine a curious look so he spoke up. "Thank you for everything... Um... Would it be okay...? Could I..."

Kurt tilted his head in a sweet way that made Blaine blush deeply. "What is it Blaine?"

"Do you think I could come back and visit?" He finally got out in a rush.

Kurt smiled warmly at him, but his eyes read of confusion. "Sure, anytime."

Blaine thanked him again before rushing out to join his friends. Nick was standing by the passenger door, waiting for Blaine to crawl into the back. When they were bumping back down the driveway, Blaine turned around to see Kurt taking baby Beth in his arms. He lifted his hand in a shy wave, which Kurt and Quinn returned laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you so much for the adds to your favorites and alerts! I love the couple of reviews I've gotten too. I meant to warn something yesterday and I completely forgot. Luckily it wasn't a part of the last section, but the warning stands from here on out. This is a period piece, and as such, sometimes the characters use words and terms that would not be acceptable in today's society. When a word like this is used it is not meant to represent my views, but to illustrate the time the story takes place. I did lost of research for this story including talking to people who lived during this time. If you have concern about word usage, please contact me. Thanks.**

**I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Reviews are like love :)  
**

Blaine, Nick, and Jeff decided to go back to Dalton to freshen up after leaving the farm. Nick still wanted to go and visit Darla, his girlfriend, and Jeff agreed to go with him. This time Blaine bowed out. He had a lot to think about. He spent the rest of Saturday in his dorm room, his thoughts stuck on his newly realized sexuality and Kurt. He had to admit that the two were connected. He understood that it wasn't that Kurt made him gay or forced the realization, it was that Kurt made it impossible for him to ignore anymore.

Sunday, he went looking for information. What he found was staggering. In the local library, he found article after article about homosexuals being arrested in raids at bars and other gathering places in the area. It was scary to realize what this could mean for him; the threat of being arrested at anytime for whom he was. Nevertheless, it also made him realize that he was not alone. He didn't know if Kurt was gay, it wasn't something you just asked, even to a pacifist. However, one thing Kurt had said was nagging at him. What was a 1-Y? Nothing he read in the newspapers helped answer this. Even the official papers listing each classification didn't mention reasons just they could be drafted 'only in a state of emergency.'

With each passing day, the urge for Blaine to just go back to the farm and visit Kurt grew with intensity. By Wednesday, Blaine was ready to forgo classes just for a five-minute conversation with the man. However, thoughts of demerits and the subsequent suspension of all privileges, including being able to leave campus, reined him in. As soon as the last bell rang on Friday though, found Blaine racing to his room. He hurriedly pulled on an old pair of jeans and one of the more casual button ups he owned. He stuffed a couple of changes of clothes in his satchel, hoping to stay the weekend as well. Blaine had already told his mother he was staying again on campus that weekend, so he didn't have to worry about his parents. He opened his dorm room door, only to find Jeff standing there a big smile on his face.

"Hey!" Blaine greeted, surprised by his friends presence. He hadn't thought of having to lie to his friends, but wasn't sure what they would think of the truth, or even the part he would be willing to share.

Jeff seemed to notice his reticence for he asked, "Everything okay man?"

"Sure... fine, just heading out for the weekend." Blaine answered, talking more to Jeff's knees than Jeff himself.

"Going home?" Jeff asked.

"No, not home..." Blaine knew he couldn't keep this from his friend, "I'm actually going to visit Kurt and Quinn." Jeff gave him an odd look. "I don't know, I really liked it there..." Blaine trailed off not knowing what to say.

"Just... stay safe man." Jeff told him, patting him on the shoulder but still looking at him as if he were off his rocker.

The words were out of his mouth before he could think, "Don't tell anyone, please, I just... Don't tell."

Jeff shook his head but said, "I don't know what's going on, but as long as you are back in one piece on Sunday... Then your secret is safe with me."

That promise in hand, Blaine raced out the door to his own car, giving Jeff one last grateful look as he passed. Blaine nearly missed the turn off to the driveway, and had to fight for control of his car as it fish tailed on the loose gravel. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline and perhaps some nerves as he knocked on the farmhouse door. The curtains parted slightly before falling back in place and the door opened revealing Quinn, a confused smile on her face.

"Blaine?" She asked in way of a greeting.

"Hey Quinn, I came by to see Kurt." Just seeing the friendly face helped ease some of his nerves.

She smiled, something rested behind her eyes he couldn't name. "He's in the barn working. Just go on in."

Blaine looked over at the old barn and couldn't suppress the smile building; Kurt was in there. After almost a week of thinking about nothing else, Kurt was just a few yards away. He thanked Quinn, before hurrying across the yard, scattering chickens in his wake. Blaine pulled open the old barn door and was met by the strong smell of hay and cows tinged with something he couldn't identify. The area was dim, and he couldn't see Kurt anywhere. "Kurt?" He called tentatively.

A shuffling could be heard overhead, Blaine looked up to see Kurt looking down on him, "Blaine?" He asked, surprise coloring his voice, "Come on up." Blaine looked around and spotted a rickety ladder by the far wall, leading up to the space where Kurt waited. He hurried up it as quickly as it was safe. When his head popped up over the floor of the loft, Kurt was standing there cocking his head to the side, waiting. "What are you doing here?" He asked helping Blaine up.

Doubt crept over Blaine, "You said I could visit... you weren't just saying that were you?"

"No, of course not, I just wasn't sure if you really meant it." Kurt said with a shrug and turned his back on Blaine. It was then he took in the space around him, the floor was swept clean and clear of anything you would expect a barn to hold. In its place, the area was filled with an easel, canvases, pottery, and a potter's wheel. Branches leaned up against one wall below a wide assortment of knives and chisels. It was clear to Blaine this was any artists dream. Then there was Kurt himself, his torso was once again bare, and Blaine could see his muscles ripple and flex as he moved back over to the painting he had been working on before being interrupted. Instead of jeans though, his hips were draped with a long swath of red fabric. Blaine had never seen anything like it, on a man at least, but the contrast between the creamy white of Kurt's skin and the vibrant red of the fabric, took the little breath Blaine had managed to regain away.

He approached Kurt at the easel, being mindful to keep a respectful distance. He looked at the half-formed image a black bare tree stood out against a rolling red sky. The image was beautiful and spoke of sunsets and tranquility. "It's beautiful," Blaine told him honesty dripping from his voice.

Kurt laughed, "It's not finished yet... but thank you. So have you run away from school, or are you actually allowed to wear something besides that god awful uniform?"

It was Blaine's turn to laugh, "They are strict at Dalton, but we are actually allowed to wear what we want outside of classes... Well what we want as long as it meets their strict guild lines of what is appropriate. They just started allowing jeans on campus two years ago."

Kurt turned to him, a smirk on his face, "I honestly think I would die in such a stifling environment. At my school, it was bad enough. Hair a certain length and all that, but they couldn't dictate to us what we wore outside of school hours."

"Where did you graduate from then?" Blaine asked. From there the tension left Blaine's body and the conversation flowed smoothly. They talked on a variety of subjects, music, movies (though Kurt hadn't been to one in the last year or so), literature. It seemed the only thing they didn't bring up was family, the war, and the one thing Blaine wished he could just ask Kurt. He felt drawn to the man, and the more they spoke the more this connection seemed to grow inside Blaine. He wanted to reach out and brush his knuckles over Kurt's impossibly smooth cheek. He wanted to reach out and close his hand around Kurt's. He wanted to press his lips against Kurt's in an urgent kiss to see if it was as magical as his friends claimed it was. But fear held him back; fear of pushing too far, fear of rejection, but most of all fear of losing what little of Kurt he seemed to have gained in the afternoon.

They talked and Blaine watched as Kurt painted, adding details and depth to what was already on the canvas. After what seemed like no time, the light had almost completely faded from the loft. Blaine glimpsed the sky from out the lone window; it was dusty roses, and oranges, fading to almost black. Kurt followed his sight line, "it is getting late; do you need to be heading back?" He asked, his voice betraying none of his feelings.

Blaine gave him a sheepish smile, the first sign of nerves in what must have been several hours. "No, I'm checked out for the weekend, nowhere else I have to be."

Kurt gave him an unreadable look, Blaine thought it might be wary or disappointed but couldn't be sure. "Do your parents not think it is odd you speeding two weekends in a row supposedly at school?"

Blaine paused for a minute, both at the question, and at Kurt, bringing up one of the topics it seemed they were purposely avoiding. "No, they don't really seem to care. My mom fusses over me when I am home, but... I don't know. I've lived away from home since I started high school; I guess they are used to it."

"I guess I don't get it, my dad would never... I guess it's different since I never went to boarding school, but he wouldn't let me run off like that, for lack of a better term." Kurt said with a shrug, turning around to gather his brushes and place them in a jar with what Blaine could only guess was paint thinner.

Blaine felt a little defensive. His parents had never been ones to 'hover' as his mom called it, but Blaine hated their indifference when it came to anything real. Sure his mom tried to shield him from something as harmless as music, but when it came to how he actually spent his time she didn't seem to care. "Well what does your dad think of you living out here then?" His tone was harsher than he meant it.

Kurt's bare shoulders rose once more, but the movement was stiff, betraying his nonchalant attitude. "I wouldn't know, he's dead," he said his voice low and indifferent.

Blaine's heart cracked at that and instinctively he reached a hand out to place it on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt tensed for a moment before relaxing again. "Hey, I'm sorry. Not just about your dad, but I didn't mean to say it like that." He took a breath and lifted his hand when he felt Kurt begin to turn back towards him. "Sometimes I wish they cared more, but it is what it is. I shouldn't take my frustration with them out on you though."

Kurt nodded, and then sat with his legs dangling out the window watching the sunset. After a moment, he turned back to Blaine with a smile, and patted the spot beside him. They sat staring out at the changing colors in silence. When the first star appeared, Kurt spoke again. "Sometimes I forget that not everyone's parents are like my dad. It was just us in the house for so long... my mom died when I was little, so we kind of clung to each other." A small sound barely a laugh raised Kurt's shoulder, Blaine catching more of the movement than the noise. "He didn't trust a stranger with me at first, so he brought me in to his garage. That's where I learned to work on cars. Once he started showing me the ropes, I never spent another afternoon after school out that shop... until he died."

Blaine looked over at Kurt and though his voice was emotional and his eyes shone in the faint light, no tears were falling. Blaine felt his heart ache again for the man. "How did... I mean, is it okay..."

"How did he die?" Kurt asked with a sad smile. Blaine nodded sheepishly. "He had a heart attack, I was at school. They say he died before he even got to the hospital."

"What happened to you?" Blaine asked.

Kurt watched his hands in his lap. "When he died he was engaged to a woman, Carole. I was almost eighteen and set to graduate in a couple of months... so she took me in. Said I was a son to her even if no one else saw it that way. So I moved in with her and her son Finn. Sold the house and the garage. Was going to use the money for college... but then... well I already told you about my selective service status." Kurt shrugged like all that he was saying was no big deal. "Pretty soon after, I found out Quinn was pregnant. We started planning. This place was my mom's parents, never had my dad's name on the deed. I sold it to Quinn for five dollars and right after we graduated, we disappeared. Carole knows Quinn is here and that if she needs to find me she can write here, but other than that..."

"Is Beth yours?" Blaine asked feeling his heart drop.

A real laugh from Kurt caught Blaine by surprise. "No, Blaine. I don't know how many ways I can say it, but Quinn and I are not, never were and never will be an item. She was dating Finn, and before you ask, Beth isn't his either. Quinn tried to convince him she was, I heard them talking, and knew they never did it. Quinn was pissed at me for telling him the truth... but she thanked me later."

Blaine was thoroughly confused. "But then who?"

"She won't say for sure, but I have my suspicions." Kurt said shaking his head. "Now that this has turned to a gossip session, are there any other sordid details of our lives you would like me to share."

Then the words rushed out of his mouth. "Are you queer?" Kurt stiffened and the words kept leaping out of his mouth. "I think I am... I mean I never really thought about it and then I met you and I'm just drawn to you and I couldn't ignore it anymore. And if you're not, please don't hate me, just let me leave and I won't bother you again and I know you say you're a pacifist but if you could just not beat me up either..."

A laugh startled Blaine out of his rambling. His eyes widened and he looked over at Kurt who was wearing an amused expression. "Blaine, its okay, just calm down." Blaine nodded, feeling his eyes still as wide as saucers. "Okay from what I gathered from that explosion of words is that your think you are gay, and find me attractive, is that right?"

Blaine squeaked out a small, "yeah."

Kurt nodded and laughed again, "and you want to know if I am in fact gay as well and share your feelings?" Blaine nodded, holding his breath for whatever Kurt may say next. Instead of saying anything, Kurt leaned impossibly forward and suddenly his lips were brushing up against Blaine's making his heart hammer against his chest. His lips tingled as they continued to kiss and it spread until his whole body seemed to thrum with excitement. Blaine's hand cupped Kurt's smooth cheek seemingly of its own accord. Kurt's own hand clutched tightly to Blaine's shoulder. Blaine was getting light-headed in the best way possible, and then Kurt pulled away. They each pulled in a great breath before Blaine opened his eyes to see Kurt's blue eyes twinkling with amusement mere inches from his own. "Does that answer your question?" He asked his voice lower than Blaine had ever heard it.

Blaine nodded, then when everything hit him, what he had said, what they had just done, he ducked his head and blushed. Kurt laughed again, the free sound sending Blaine's heart soaring. "Don't go all shy on me now Blaine."

Blaine shook his head to clear it of thoughts besides those of Kurt and kissing him again. "It's just that I asked you that and said all that... and we kissed... And I don't even know your last name."

"Welcome to the world of free love." Kurt said with a smile and Blaine felt his heart sink again.

"Oh my god... You don't..."

But before Blaine could get any further Kurt cut him off with a gentle hand on his cheek. "Hey...I was just making a joke; I suppose a very ill timed, inappropriate joke. I just meant that it seems most people I know aren't bothered by not knowing those kinds of details before they do more than kiss. Hell I've shared more about me with you than I have with anyone in the last year." Blaine nodded, feeling himself relax with Kurt's warm palm against his cheek. "Let me be perfectly clear. My name is Kurt Hummel, I am eighteen years old, I have only been and will only ever be attracted to men. And I like YOU. We just met, but I like you. Okay?"

Blaine couldn't help the grin that seemed to explode on his face, "My name is Blaine Anderson, I am seventeen years old, a senior at Dalton Academy for Boys. I just recently allowed myself to realize I am gay. I don't only like you, I feel drawn to you, in a way I never have to anyone else."

Kurt smiled fondly back at Blaine. "Well nice to meet you... Now kiss me." And kiss him Blaine did.

Blaine got lost in the sensation of Kurt's mouth pressed against his. Every nerve seemed to tingle throughout his body. Never before had he felt so alive. His heart stopped for a moment when Kurt opened his mouth, letting his tongue come out and caress Blaine's lip. It was new yet so welcome, Blaine readily opened his mouth, letting Kurt inside. His heart beat in double time as their tongues danced together and explored each other's mouths. Low gasps and moans filled the barn loft as they lost themselves in each other.

Blaine could feel the other responses his body had to the action. If there was even one lingering doubt in Blaine's mind that he was attracted to men, to Kurt, it was eradicated. Blaine could feel himself hardening. They both had shifted quickly, with one leg dangling out the window and the other tucked between them so they could reach each other's mouths better. A momentary thought filtered through Blaine's mind that if he pulled away for a moment, it would be obvious to Kurt the effect he had on him.

Feeling daring, Blaine slipped his hand down from Kurt's face, caressing his neck before settling it splayed on Kurt's bare chest. The skin was smooth and muscular beneath his palm. Unconsciously, he began rubbing his thumb across the soft skin, eliciting a moan from Kurt before he pulled back only to begin kissing a trail down Blaine's neck.

Just as a needy groan fell from Blaine's free mouth, a loud grumble filled the air between them. Kurt's head fell to Blaine's shoulder and his body began to shake with laughter, Blaine's face heated up with embarrassment at his stomach's ill-timed complaint. He was thankful though that when Kurt pulled back he looked him in the eye first as he was still painfully hard. "Come on lover boy; let's get you something to eat." He smiled.

Blaine nodded before adding, "Okay… I just need a minute." He looked down at his own lap, not wanting to draw attention to his problem, but doing just that.

"I guess we should calm down a bit before going in the house. Quinn might not appreciate…" Kurt said. It was then Blaine noticed he was not the only one with a problem. The fabric around Kurt's waist did little to hide his own hard on. This realization sent Blaine's stomach swooping in a new way. Knowing this was not helping the situation. He turned away and tried to think of anything but Kurt.

A few minutes later, both more presentable, they descended the ladder and headed to the house. Just before Kurt opened the door, Blaine grabbed his forearm. "Does Quinn know?" He asked suddenly afraid.

"That I'm queer?" Kurt asked. All Blaine could do was nod. "Yes, you're safe here…" a sad look came over him then, "Though if you don't want her to know about you. I understand."

Blaine was quick to answer, "No, no I… I know it's not safe for us out there," he said gesturing vaguely with his hand to the unseen world he came from. "But I'm not afraid here."

Kurt led them inside and directly to the kitchen, where Quinn was eating a light meal of cheese and bread while feeding Beth. When she saw Blaine, she instinctively pulled her top to cover herself, obviously remembering the last time feeding her child in front of him.

"You didn't make supper?' Kurt asked eyeing her plate.

Quinn just shrugged before answering, "I didn't feel like it. I figured I could just snack on what we already had."

Kurt shook his head before heading to the old icebox and pulling out several wheels of various cheeses. Blaine shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with himself as Kurt began cutting hunks from the cheese. He looked over at Blaine smiling before asking, "Would you mind grabbing a couple of loaves of bread? Then we can take this up and talk."

Blaine did as he was asked while Kurt loaded the cheese and a large pitcher of water on a tray. Quinn kept giving him searching looks but never said another word before they left the room side by side. Blaine once again followed Kurt; this time up the rickety stairs to what he knew was Kurt's bedroom. Once inside Kurt set the tray on top of the dresser before lighting two candles, one on each side of the bed.

The candle light sent a warm glow wafting across the room. Blaine nervously fidgeted in the doorway waiting for some indication from Kurt what he should do. Kurt then took a quilt from off the bed and spread it out on the paint splattered floors. He smiled when he saw Blaine still standing awkwardly holding two loaves of bread. He walked over and grabbed the tray before bumping Blaine's hip with his saying, "Come one, sit. There is no need to be nervous."

Blaine had to chuckle at himself. He was being ridiculous. Kurt was right there was no need to be nervous. However, that did not stop the butterflies from erupting in his stomach. He followed Kurt to the makeshift picnic, still lost in thought. He realized it wasn't just nerves; it was a kind of giddy anticipation. This was all so new to him, not just Kurt, but also the idea of doing anything with anyone. He'd never kissed a girl before, not even to mention a boy. He had thought about it numerous times, always forcing himself to picture a girl, not allowing his own thoughts to drift to what he truly desired. He felt so lost, he had no idea what came next.

They ate in silence, Kurt throwing him glances, some amused, some concerned as Blaine continued to lose himself in his own head. He thought back to all the conversations he tried to block out from the other boys at school talking about their conquests. He knew logically, to some extent, it was the same, but there had to be great differences too. He barely tasted his food as he mulled the possibilities over in his head.

A warm smooth hand on his cheek brought him straight out of his revelry. "Hush, you are thinking way too loud." Kurt whispered. "What has your mind so troubled?"

Blaine sighed, leaning into Kurt's gentle touch. "I just… I don't know what I'm doing. I feel so lost. This is not the way I thought the weekend would go," he confessed.

A wary look crossed Kurt's face and he pulled his hand away. Blaine instantly missed the touch. "How so?" he asked an edge to his voice.

"When I came here," Blaine told him, "I just wanted to spend time with you… get to know you."

"Which you did, we are getting to know each other," Kurt added cautiously.

"I know. I just didn't see myself actually confessing my feelings. I just feel like I know absolutely nothing. I don't know how this works, what we are. I have so many questions."

Kurt smiled as he took Blaine's hand and said. "Then ask. Don't lose yourself in worry when you can actually do something about it. I'm here, ask anything."

The gentleness in Kurt's eyes, in his touch and voice, emboldened Blaine, "What are we?"

"We are Kurt and Blaine." Kurt's bell like laugh punctuated the statement.

Blaine huffed, "You know what I mean."

Kurt seemed to eye him for a minute. "You like labels don't you." Blaine's face crinkled. "No, I just mean, you like to know what's expected of you, don't you?"

Blaine just shrugged, although he knew it was true. He had always been driven to please others, putting his own needs and desires in the background. He knew what was expected of him to make his parents proud. He realized that was why he hid this vital part of himself away… until Kurt. He was to study law, then marry a respectable young woman, like his father… like Cooper. He never questioned it, but now the idea felt like a stone in his stomach.

Blaine looked up at Kurt who was watching him carefully. "What do you want?" Kurt asked squeezing his hand.

"You," Blaine breathed without thinking before blushing scarlet.

Kurt beamed at him before Blaine could feel more shocked embarrassment. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

"So what are we then?" Blaine asked again.

Kurt shrugged, "I don't think there are really guidelines for this. I mean it's not like we can pin each other. We can't really be open about it either. If we were we would be arrested or sent to an insane asylum." Blaine's face fell; Kurt was right. "But…" Kurt continued, "Just because of that, doesn't mean we can't decide for ourselves what we are."

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked grasping for any shred of hope.

"What do you want me to be for you?" Kurt asked in return.

Blaine thought for a minute before answering honestly. "I want you to be my boyfriend. I want it to be you and me, together."

"Then I am your boyfriend… on one condition" Kurt said. When Blaine answered with a raised eyebrow he said, "as long as I can call you the same."

Blaine's sigh of relief was not lost on Kurt as he chuckled, squeezing his hand again.

"I like that a lot." Blaine said inching closer to Kurt.

"Anything else in that cute head of yours?" Kurt asked

A huffed laugh escaped before Blaine replied, "A lot actually." At Kurt's smile he asked, "Have you ever been with another man before?"

"Not really…" Kurt paused, obviously trying to gather his thoughts. "Right after graduation I was ranting to Puck about the absurdity of being on the draft list. I let it slip… I mean no one knew at that point,"

"You kissed Puck?" Blaine asked, his heart sinking.

"No! God no." Kurt laughed, "He may have been surprisingly accepting but, no. He took me to a gay bar outside of Lima. He had read about it in the papers after a bust… not a smart move, I know. The place was full. A man approached me, he must have been at least 30, but he was nice. He talked to me, told me places I could go, safer places; New York, Chicago, San Francisco. Told me some other things. Then he kissed me." The blush that painted his pale cheeks, thought he hated the thought of what brought it there enthralled Blaine. "It was a little intense. I didn't really like the guy and he… it was intense. Anyway, that was when Puck came running in yelling that the cops were coming. Luckily, we got away. I never saw the guy again, which I am thankful for."

Blaine couldn't help the quizzical look that he knew graced his face. "Why?"

"I wasn't ready for that. I really just needed a friend at the time. Someone I could talk with. At the bar, no one would have given me what I needed. It was full of shameful and quick meetings; getting off to sate a need. I never went back for a reason."

Kurt seemed to see the worry on Blaine's face as he thought about the unknown that awaited them. "Let your mind rest tonight. For once just, let be. Hamlet was right about some things,' The readiness in all.' Come on, it is late, let's to bed."

Blaine still didn't know what was to come but decided to follow Kurt's advice. "Let it be Blaine" he repeated to himself as he approached the bed warily. Kurt eyed him for a moment before making a quick decision. He went over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of undershorts. His cheeks tinged pink as he said, "I thought it might be a bit much yet to get in bed with you naked, and I can't sleep in the sarong so… I'll just be back in a minute."

Alone in the room Blaine stripped down to his briefs and undershirt unsure what to do next. He was still debating whether to slip under the covers or wait for Kurt when he walked back through the door. Blaine stood there a blush still present from Kurt's exiting words. His hands were clasped in front of himself, feeling more exposed that he ever had before. Even in the locker rooms at school, he knew no one was really looking, but now Kurt's eyes quickly raked over his body. When they rested once again on Blaine's anxious face, he smiled before closing the space between them.

"Relax," He cooed, "Nothing has changed since the barn loft. This is still us."

Blaine chanced a look down at Kurt. He was still wearing the red sarong. "Okay… um do you have a preference on which side you sleep on? He asked.

"Kurt instead of answering crossed over to the right side of the bed. Blaine watched him as his hand drifter to the knot in the red fabric. He couldn't pull his eyes away as Kurt loosened the knot and the material fell away. Not taking heed of Blaine's gasp, Kurt crawled under the quilts and blankets. Once he was comfortable, he looked up at Blaine's still unmoving form. "If this makes you uncomfortable, we can sleep in the meadow again, or I can go to the living room…"Kurt trailed off.

"No," Blaine exclaimed before getting control of himself. "I'm fine." Then before he could think about it anymore, he crawled into the bed.

Any remaining tension was lost once Kurt grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers. It was as if a weight lifted off Blaine at the touch. He couldn't hold in his smile as he rolled over to face Kurt. Kurt smiled softly again as he did the same.

"Good night Kurt." Blaine whispered into the dimness.

Kurt rose up, blew out the candle on his own side of the bed before leaning across Blaine to extinguish the other. His bare chest brushed across Blaine's arms at the movement. In total darkness now, Blaine felt Kurt's breath on his mouth as he whispered back, "Good night Blaine." With sweet bliss their lips connected once more in a slow tender kiss. Kurt pulled back but kept their foreheads connected. This is how they fell asleep, hands entwined, foreheads touching, sharing the same breath with identical contented smiles on their lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine was gently jostled awake as his bed shifted beneath him. He cracked his eyes open to find his body draped over Kurt who was trying to carefully extract himself. Their eyes met and Kurt smiled softly to him. Blaine couldn't contain his own sleepy grin.

Kurt's hand lifted to the cheek not currently pressed to his bare chest. "Go back to sleep, I have some chores to do, but you should rest."

This helped relieve Blaine of any lingering sleepiness, "Wait, no. Let me help," he said even though he absentmindedly began caressing Kurt's chest with the hand draped there.

A contented sigh escaped Kurt, "You don't have to," he whispered.

"But I want to."

"Well, you need to stop that," Kurt said nodding to Blaine's hand that was still stroking lightly across his chest, "or I will never get out of this bed."

A spectacular blush painted Blaine's cheeks barely discernible in the dim room. Sensing more than seeing Blaine's embarrassment, Kurt captured his hand that was making a hasty retreat from its previous home above Kurt's heart. "Hey don't. You have my express permission to touch me whenever and wherever you want. Don't shy away from me." He rolled himself over so he was looking directly into Blaine's eyes. "I would gladly stay right here with you all day if the girls weren't waiting."

"The girls?" Blaine asked.

A chuckle filled the small space between them, "Yes, the cows and goats need to be milked and fed. I have other things I have to do to."

Blaine nodded and soon they were climbing out of their warm bed into the chilly room. After borrowing a pair of overalls, flannel shirt, and boots (Kurt insisting he didn't want to do farm work in his regular clothes) they went out to meet the dawning day. Kurt taught him how to milk the cows and goats. They worked side by side, Kurt singing in his work any odd tune that came to mind, while Blaine tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Kurt's voice however, cut through his concentration more often than not leaving him staring at the amazing man. He had the voice of an angel, like none Blaine had ever heard before, high clear and melodious. Every once and a while Blaine would catch himself just watching as Kurt put a melody to his work. Consequently, this meant Kurt did twice the work Blaine did, but didn't seem too fazed by it. Once both cows and the five goats were milked, they went on to collect the eggs from the dozen or so chickens pecking about the yard in the early morning light.

After Blaine asked, Kurt explained that he had no problem eating eggs from his little farm, because they had no rooster, so there was no chance of the eggs becoming chickens. The eggs, and milk collected, and the animals fed, the couple were free to return to the house to make breakfast.

"Do you mind if I wash up?" Blaine asked setting down the milk pails in the corner where Kurt directed.

"If you want, but after breakfast I was going to go out to the garden to work for a bit." The smile he gave Blaine sent warmth shooting through his veins. "Mornings I do all the work I need to keep us fed. Then I usually go to work in the barn." Blaine knew that by barn, Kurt meant the loft and his art. Just the thought of getting to watch Kurt create again made Blaine's mind up.

"If you work, I work." He said earning him another beautiful smile. Blaine washed the eggs while Kurt scrambled some that already lay in a basket on the counter. He worked at an old wood burning stove that fit the small farmhouse well. It was black and large with ornate scrollwork on the front. Blaine could just imagine the thousands of meals this masterpiece had helped to create. Potatoes fried on one burner while a skillet warmed in the other ready for the eggs to be added. Kurt began skimming cream off the top of a pail of milk beside the ones Blaine sat down. He added the cream to an old fashioned butter churn. Blaine watched in fascination as Kurt worked with these old world contraptions he had seen in books but never in real life.

Before he could stop himself he asked, "How do you know how to do all this?"

Kurt laughed looking up as he fitted the top on the churn. "My grandparents and mom taught me. They liked the old easy way of life... my grandparents more than my mom did. When they were still alive this was a working farm. Pop sold vegetables, cheese, milk and eggs when there was a surplus. He liked to be self-sufficient. Nanny would earn extra money sewing for the women in town, kept them all in clothes year round. There was a time when everyone in the area knew about the Elizabeth's farm." A happy nostalgic look passed over Kurt's face as he talked. "After my mom died I spent a lot of time out here. It was hard for my dad working all the time to take care of me so most weekends and the summer I would come here." Kurt laughed," Anyway, this all became second nature to me around that time."

Blaine placed his hand on top of Kurt's where it lay resting on the churn unmoving. "Show me?" He asked nodding to the churn.

Wordlessly, Kurt moved him to one of the kitchen chairs and placed the churn on the floor between his feet. Kneeling in front of him, Kurt clasped both of Blaine's hands in his own. Together they gripped the shaft and began slowly to pump it up and down. With a gulp, Blaine lifted his eyes meeting Kurt's with an intensity he had never known. Even if he wanted to, Blaine couldn't have looked away in that moment, all laughter was now gone from Kurt's face, replaced instead by a bit lip and oceanic eyes he felt like he was drowning in. Their rhythm never faltered and their gazes held, as the moment stretched longer than the task called for. Feeling draw by some unknown force, Blaine leaned forward and captured Kurt's lips with his own. The hiss of Kurt's quickly drawn in breath unglued Blaine's hands and he quickly moved them to cup Kurt's face. Kissing, Blaine decided, was his new favorite activity as they allowed themselves to linger and enjoy this proximity.

Kurt broke the kiss far sooner than Blaine would have liked. For the first time since they had met, he looked bashful. "The potatoes will burn and we will never get breakfast if we continue this." He whispered into the silent room. "Just... keep doing that and I will finish up here."

Then Kurt was turning back to the stove, Blaine's eyes never leaving his figure. Only after Kurt cleared his throat and nodded pointedly to the butter churn did Blaine return to his task.

Half way through the meal, Quinn finally emerged from her room, Beth asleep in her arms. She mumbled good mornings to the pair but offered no other acknowledgement as she fixed herself a plate and began to eat. Blaine noticed Kurt sending her curious glances, which she ignored. When both their plates were cleaned, Kurt led them out the door once more. This time though he led Blaine in a direction he had never been before.

A dirt path, created from decades of treading, led through the woods before opening on a large field. There were small plants just barely breaking through the ground and many rows with no growth at all. Kurt guided Blaine through each activity as they watered and weeded each row. He described to Blaine what each row held and what he planned to do with each crop. Blaine learned that Kurt canned or dried as much of the produce as he could himself. Anything that couldn't be saved or eaten was sold to pay for whatever they couldn't grow themselves or given to their wandering friends.

It was long tedious work, and before long, Kurt had stripped off both his work shirt and undershirt. The sun beat down and Blaine could feel the rivulets of sweat meandering down his face, neck, back, and arms. He could no longer feel the morning chill on his skin, everything being replaced with the heat only real work could create. His back ached from bending over as he pulled weeds trying to encroach on the plants that would mean so much to Kurt and Quinn in the months to come. As he stood up stretching his back and wiping the sweat from his brow, he felt gentle hands come to rest on his tense shoulders.

"You must be burning up. Don't you want to take this off?" Kurt asked, turning him around so he could better see Blaine's face, which was now burning with an impressive blush to accompany the heat the work and sun had already colored it with. "Look at you your all red!"Kurt exclaimed seeing this face properly. "Go sit down, take off your shirt, and drink from the hose before you pass out on me." He all but ordered, pushing Blaine towards a fallen log that helped mark the edge of the garden.

Not wanting to admit that his redness wasn't caused entirely by the heat, Blaine obediently sat himself down. After a moment of worry, he reached for the buttons of the work shirt Kurt had lent him and removed it before his nerves could get the better of him. Trying not to think about exposing himself more before Kurt, he stripped off his undershirt as well. Almost immediately, Kurt was kneeling in front of him once more this time holding the hose. Wordlessly the hose was passed between them and Kurt ran to switch on the spicket. He was back by Blaine's side in a moment, letting him drink before taking the hose and wetting the undershirt that lay discarded next to Blaine. Blaine accepted the hose once more as Kurt lay the shirt on the nape of his neck.

"There is that better?" Kurt practically cooed at him, as his free hand caressed Blaine's now bare shoulder. All Blaine could do was nod and smile at how easy it was to be like this; here with Kurt, more exposed than before, but with a feeling of calm flooding him. Just like before, all his worries were for nothing and easily pushed aside with Kurt here.

"I'm fine, really." Blaine told him resting his own hand over Kurt's. "Let's finish up," he suggested taking to his feet once more.

The work after that was quickly finished, just as the sun was at its zenith. As they walked back to the house Kurt suggested they wash up before lunch and moving on to the barn. Blaine was surprised when Kurt lead him to the small bathroom and showed Blaine the claw foot tub, old like the rest of the house, but so beautiful, and told Blaine he could bathe here and Kurt would wash in the pond. A flash of an idea skirted across Blaine's mind, wanting to suggest they both could bathe at the pond, but the thought of being completely naked with Kurt stopped it in its track. The idea equally thrilled and terrified him, so he let Kurt go alone.

He was standing again in Kurt room, fully dressed in his own clothes in front of the mirror, with his tub of Duke's Greaseless Pomade in his hand, when Kurt returned. Blaine had turned to him surprised by his entry and Kurt's eyes seemed to rove over his features taking him in. A small smile played on his lips before his eyes fell on the container in Blaine's hand.

"Please tell me you are not going to put that on your hair again." He said starting towards Blaine again and gently removing the tub.

"My hair is crazy without it." Blaine practically whined. "One day I ran out and I received a demerit for not presenting the image of a proper Dalton gentleman."

" Well," Kurt said, running his hands through Blaine's damp curls, sending shivers down his spine. "You aren't at Dalton."

Nevertheless, Blaine's insecurities could not be so easily tamed, "I know, it's just that..." He sighed not knowing what he could say to make Kurt understand that slicking his hair back wasn't just about fashion, or image. It was important in helping to maintain himself in the way he needed to be.

"You like order and following the strict guidelines that have been set for you."Kurt told him, seeming to understand without Blaine having to say a word. "But Blaine..." the sweet, caring way his name rolled off Kurt tongue made him looks up and meets his eyes once more."Life isn't all about keeping yourself in the cage that society has set for you. It's about learning to be comfortable with you." Kurt slid his hand from Blaine's curls to his cheek; cupping in gently but firmly to keep him from turning away. "Here, you can be who you are, not who they tell you to be; myself included, I won't force you to do anything you don't want… but I would like it if here, at least you could just let loose and be the Blaine you truly are. And by let loose, I do also mean not hiding those beautiful curls of yours away from me again."

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle at the smile that sprang to Kurt's lips on that last statement. "Yeah? You really like them?" He asked, leaning more into Kurt's palm.

"I think they are lovely." A smirk played on his face before he added, "plus imagine how gorgeous they would be if you let your hair grow out a bit." He punctuated the statement with a slow sweet kiss.

When they broke apart, Blaine snatched the tub back. Kurt defeated, looked down at his feet only raising his head when Blaine's disappeared from his view. Blaine caught Kurt's eyes as he stood near the door, his hair free, and held his hand out towards his boyfriend. "Come on; let's get lunch, so I can watch you create again." An unmatched smile sprang to Kurt's face as he took the offered hand.

Quinn was absent again when they emerged from upstairs and still hidden away when their meager meal had been devoured. Kurt didn't comment on it, so Blaine stayed silent on the subject as well. He couldn't help thinking this wasn't the norm, at least it didn't seem like it given the covert glances Kurt would send to the doorway every few minutes. He felt something was amiss and the only sure thing that was different was his own presence in the house.

Once in the barn, Blaine put Quinn out of his mind and immersed himself in the beauty that was Kurt creating. They chatted as Kurt stood in front of a new canvas on the easel. It amazed Blaine the concentration on Kurt's face as he painted. The conversation never faltered, but occasionally Kurt would fall silent, his head cocked to the side. Blaine had no idea what puzzled him, or what he saw as he contemplated his work, but before long, he would pick up his sentence or thought where he had left off and continue as if there had been no interruption. A couple of times Kurt would drift away as Blaine would be speaking. Kurt's re-emergence would be punctuated with a statement like, "so what did the headmaster say when you presented the idea?" Showing Blaine he had been listening before his mind led him away. He soon learned to read the cues and would stop as soon as Kurt's head began to lean to the side and pick back up when a spark returned to his eyes.

Blaine couldn't bear to not watch Kurt as he created it was mesmerizing and unlike anything he had ever seen before. Each stroke landed with purpose and soon a scene was covering the previously white surface. First trees and a meadow graced the canvas, the colors warm and inviting. Soon a woman, draped in green, appeared dancing. The picture seemed to live, movement inherent in its very being. The woman's auburn locks even held movement in its still form.

After Kurt signed his name with a flourish, he moved on to building more frames to stretch reams of canvas across. While this too took a skill Blaine didn't possess, he did not feel the same need to watch and memorize the actions as he had before. With Kurt's suggestion, he began to look around the space. A stack of canvases stacked against one wall showed almost identical bowls of fruit. "My old art teacher gave them to me to reuse the canvases from some of her students." Kurt explained when he asked about them. Sketches lay scattered around a long workbench. Faces, animals, landscapes, anything you could think have littered the pages in varying degrees of completion. Blaine fingered the different carving tools and paintbrushes each with warn handles but clearly cared for otherwise.

Their conversation continued all the while. As Blaine braced himself against the workbench in a laughing fit after yet another story of the adventures of Puck, papers rained down on the floor. It wasn't until Blaine leaned down to retrieve them that something else caught his eye. Stacked neatly in the corner lay books and magazines. After returning the sketches to their rightful place, Blaine reached out and picked up the stack asking, "What's this?"

"Huh?" Kurt said looking over his shoulder, a dusting of pink colored his cheeks when he saw what was in Blaine's hands. "Oh, just some things Puck picked up for me when he drove to California last summer."

Blaine looked down and finally saw the objects for what they were. Stating up at him was the sketched figures of two half-naked, muscled men, under the title 'Locker-room Lovers'. He flipped slowly through the books and more of the same met him; men in various states of dress, alone or in pairs or trios, under titles spouting words like gay, queer, twilight and forbidden. Next came magazines showing more men with rippling muscles covered only by small shorts, briefs or strategically placed cloth or limbs. He mind was frozen, his eyes merely searching the objects in his hands.

Suddenly he felt a presence beside him, moments before a hand rested on his shoulders. They relaxed immediately at the touch, before Blaine was even aware they had tensed. He looked up to see Kurt standing beside him, his eyes searching Blaine's face. "Did you read these?" He finally asked.

Kurt slowly nodded, eyes still roving over Blaine's features. He pulled in a breath before speaking, "Yes, I read them. They... I was curious, but those... They're not like instruction books."

Kurt removed the books from Blaine's hands, settling them down on the workbench. He then moved them so they were sitting in the same spaces as last night, facing each other in the window. "Puck, I told you he is oddly accepting. Sometimes more than is appropriate honestly. He has embraced the idea of free love more than anyone else I know. To him, sex is just fun and everyone should be having as much and the best sex possible." Blaine fidgeted in his place; desire and fear warring within him. Kurt seemed to sense this because he grabbed his hand and began to rub slow circles with his thumb. A light chuckle sent Blaine's heart pitter patting before he spoke again. "He bought me those in an insane attempt to free me to go out and get laid." Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled in memory. Blaine just watched him once more in awe of him, at a loss of what to say. "I don't need books, especially those." Kurt added looking deep in Blaine's eyes.

"Why?" Blaine almost squeaked.

Kurt smile was soft and caring, "For one, it's not that I lack desire, I am an eighteen year old boy, trust me when I say I am plenty horny as it is." He gulped looking away, "It has taken all my strength these last couple of days not to just give in to my hormones. I want... I desire... so much, that's not the problem. I saw those men at the bar; I saw the shame and lust on their faces... I didn't want that. My own hand was good enough... I didn't think I could have something like this," he said indicating between the two of them. "I didn't think I could have someone like you, so I just put it on the back burner. I didn't want a quick fuck in the back room of a bar, I want something more."

Blaine nodded, he understood that, the idea of doing anything like even what he had done with Kurt already with a stranger made him squirm with discomfort. "But what about those books?" He asked looking over to the work bench where they lay.

"Most of them are a dark fantasy. There are crazy scenarios where men find each other and go at it using words like desire instead of dick. For the most part, they show the worst stereotypes of homosexuals and involve rape and prostitution. All the while, the men tend to hate themselves for being the way they are. It's not what I am looking for..."Kurt said throwing disgusted glances at the books across the room. "I read them hoping to see something different... And I guess a couple of them aren't too bad, but most of them, at least the ones Puck brought, ended up making me feel violated." He then crossed the room, and dug through the pile. He returned with one in hand. "This one, if you can get past the innuendo is not too bad." He said handing the book to Blaine.

The cover showed a Native American man, dressed only in a loincloth, playing a flute leaning against a log, while a mountain man lounged nearby looking at him. Above them, the title, 'Song of the Loon' was written in red script.

Blaine looked up at Kurt, desperate in his hope for answers to the questions burning in his mind. "And the magazines were they helpful in anyway?"

Kurt shook his head, "Not really, they mainly talk about why we need to band together and fight for our rights. They are written by dreamers, who think that the world will change if we just shout loud enough. And that's coming from me." Kurt chuckled shaking his head at himself.

"You don't think it would work?" Blaine asked, doubtful himself.

Kurt seemed to contemplate before he spoke, "I don't think enough people would expose themselves like that, not now at least. Yes, it is like the civil rights movement, we are being denied our rights, just like the blacks have been, but unlike them, we're a secret minority, we can hide, so we do. Mainly because if we don't we could end up in jail or the nuthouse, or worse. I don't know what it would take to make people take a stand, but hell I know I am not ready to risk everything to march in the streets. Others, they could lose their jobs, their families, along with what freedom they do have. I hate hiding, but I hate the thought of what would happen if we didn't."

Blaine nodded, thinking about what his family would do if they ever found out he had spent the better part of the weekend kissing another boy, and thinking about doing more than that. Kurt brought him out of his contemplation with his own question. "Why do you want these things to be more than they are?"

"I just... I want to know what this is... what it's leading to. I want to know what to expect, I can't go and ask my friends... I guess I hoped there was a way I could research... learn." Blaine's face was burning as he spoke the words looking no further than his own knees, but a cool hand caressed his cheek, lifting his gaze to piercing blue eyes.

"Hey, you have me... I know a little about the mechanics of it all... The rest we can figure out together... when you're ready. I don't think we're there quite yet though. When we are..." He trailed off biting his lip, but his gaze wasn't shy, instead his pupils were large as his eyes racked across Blaine's form. Blaine's breath caught when he saw Kurt's Adam's apple bob with a gulp.

"Yeah," he whispered leaning in, "I think will figure it out just fine." They didn't talk anymore and the book lay abandoned on the floor between them.

Sunday passed in pretty much the same manner as Saturday. They woke up entwined on Kurt's bed, dealt with the animals, then cooked breakfast before heading to the fields to work. Clean up followed, then lunch before returning to the barn where Kurt created (this time carving intricate designs into a branch turned cane) while Blaine watched in awe of his talent. All this interspersed with kissed and touches that left Blaine tingling and wanting for more. Quinn had kept herself scarce, a point neither man missed though neither commented on it either. As the sun began to set, Blaine reluctantly stood next to his car, knowing he had to leave soon if he was to return to Dalton before curfew.

"When will you be back?" Kurt asked running his thumb across the skin exposed by Blaine's rucked up t-shirt. Blaine reveled in the fact that it was a question of when and not if.

"I can't get away until Friday night." He mumbled, "I wish I could see you sooner."

Kurt smiled sweetly at him. "We can't have you slacking off school now though, it's important you make it to Kent state next year." They both knew what could happen if he didn't but neither wanted to mention it more plainly. Kurt backed away, pulling something from the waistband of his pants. "Here, take this...just keep it safe." Blaine took the battered looking copy of Hamlet from Kurt's hand. "Drive safe and I'll see you Friday, yes?"

"Definitely," Blaine said punctuating it with a kiss. "Friday."

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slid into the car and drove away. When he arrived at Dalton, he flipped through the book Kurt had given him. Nestled beneath the Hamlet cover 'Song of the Loon' hid, a note looped across the title page, "_Good thing your friends hate the classics. Read this and think of me. K_"


	4. Chapter 4

Returning to Dalton after that first weekend at the farm was harder than Blaine anticipated. Just walking through the doors in his plain t-shirt and jeans with his untamed hair, followed by the quizzical gazes of his peers was enough to remind Blaine that here at Dalton he wasn't truly free. Sure, he was well liked, popular even, but he couldn't be his true self. In all the years he spent at Dalton, he hadn't really understood how little he let his true self shine through. He molded himself instead, into the perfect Dalton student. Now, he wasn't sure if he could stuff himself back into that mold. While he walked to his dorm room, he prayed that he would make it without incident. Unfortunately, he was not so lucky. Just as he was rounding the corner to his hallway, he ran into Nick and Jeff, literally. All three stumbled back from the shock before the other two took in the sight that was Blaine.

After a moment of awkward silence Blaine spoke, "Hey."

Jeff and Nick exchanged looks and for the first time Blaine began to worry that Jeff might have told Nick about his weekend plans. Yes, Blaine had said not to tell anyone but wouldn't hold it past Jeff to think that that statement excluded Nick. All three had been friends since freshman orientation after all. As far as Blaine was aware, two had never held a secret from the other. When Jeff spoke any doubt that this was the case was erased from Blaine's mind. "I see you got back in one piece, though you do look worse for the wear. Did you forget your pomade while you were away?"

Blaine shook his head before walking briskly to his room, turning only momentarily to wave the other two to follow. Once safely ensconced in his dorm, Blaine turned to his two dearest friends, hoping the half truths he was about to tell wouldn't end up biting him in the ass in the end. "No, I brought it," he finally said in answer to Jeff's question, "it just didn't seem a farm was the appropriate place for it."

Blaine busied himself while unpacking the few things he returned with being careful to put the copy of 'Hamlet' safely on his desk. The silence was deafening, Blaine was sure that his friends could sense the small changes that the weekend wrought upon him. It wasn't until he had nothing else to occupy himself with, and he had turned back to his friends sitting on his bed that Nick spoke.

"So how was it? What did you do?" He asked his brow furrowed.

"It was good," Blaine answered as he joined them on the bed, his back against the wall. "It's really a freeing place there, I like it."

"You're not thinking of going back are you?" Jeff asked incredulously.

Blaine shrugged, hoping to show none of the irritation the question raised in him. "Probably."

"I don't get it man; those people are nothing like us. What's the appeal?" Jeff seemed more agitated that Blaine thought the situation warranted.

His defenses took over. "_Those_ people are more like me that I ever thought possible. Don't you ever feel stifled here? Everything we say and do and wear, it is all so controlled here. Don't play your music too loud, you might get a demerit. Always look put together, be a true Dalton boy. Don't think about the war, it doesn't affect you. Do you know how freeing this weekend was? To do or say whatever I wanted. It's the same at home. I am just so sick of everyone telling me what I have to be and no one asking what I want to be. I have tried all my life to fit myself in this little box of expectations, but I just don't."

"Where is this coming from?" Nick asked, concern clearly etched on his face. "You always seemed happy before."

Blaine let his focus fall on Nick alone. "I don't think I ever really knew who I was before. I'm good at rules and knowing what is expected of me... I just... I don't think I was ever happy. At the farm," internally Blaine was thinking with Kurt, "no one expects me to be anything but who I am. It is nice trying to figure that out."

Nick and Jeff shared a look before Jeff let his shoulders fall and he spoke, "If that is what you need man, then we will cover for you. Just... don't think you have to hide from us, we are your friends no matter what. Just be safe."

Blaine wanted to think he could trust them with any of the new feelings that this weekend brought to the surface, but he knew it wasn't that simple. Nick and Jeff may have been his best friends, but a niggling in his brain reminded him that there were some things that could break a friendship irreparably. After a bit of small talk, Blaine shooed them from the room and curled up on his bed to sleep. It felt colder than before alone on his bed. He missed Kurt.

Time passed. Every weekend found him at the farm, loose and free. The weekends passed the same, work in the morning, art in the afternoon and kisses sprinkled throughout the day. Quinn slowly seemed to warm to him, though Blaine had no idea what Kurt had said to her. She never spent much time with the pair together but had taken to making lunch and dinner when Blaine was there.

Blaine's weeks at school followed a pattern as well. Classes and rehearsal occupied the days and homework dominated his nights. He always made sure that he completed everything before classes ended on Friday, freeing his weekend of responsibility. It wasn't until the dead of night when the rest of the dorm was asleep, that he pulled 'Song of the Loon' out from between his mattresses and would read until his eyes began to droop. His mind was ever filled with the images provided, no matter how vague, of just how he could be with Kurt. He longed for that connection, to know just how Kurt's body would feel, but they had yet to move past kisses or further in their state of undress.

It wasn't until Easter weekend that the routine changed. Blaine showed up at the farm Thursday afternoon, giddy at the prospect of a long weekend away. With a strange bit of luck, one lie to his parents led to no obligation to return home that weekend as well. Any other time Blaine might have been hurt that after a month of absences his mother was still not demanding his return home. Instead when told he needed to work on a group project before Easter, he mother mournfully agreed, however stating that they were going to Chicago early Saturday morning to visit her mother for the holiday. "I know your grandmother would love to see you, but we all understand that school work is very important. Do you think you will be okay spending the holiday alone?" Blaine had to hold back a cheer at her words. He knew he would be just fine, and definitely not alone.

As he bounded out of his car, intent on heading straight to the barn, to Kurt, he didn't notice the tall dark figure standing in the shadow of the barn. That is, not until a hand latched onto his arm bringing him to a halt. Puck's eyes were narrowed into slits racking over Blaine's face. A worn bag was still slung over his bare shoulder. Blaine gulped in air from the sudden shock of his presence and words stuck in his throat. He hadn't seen Puck since that first weekend, and though Kurt always spoke highly of him, Blaine still found him an intimidating figure.

"What do you think you're doing prep boy?" He asked menace clear in his voice.

Blaine swallowed hard as Puck grip tightened. "Kurt. I'm here to see Kurt." Blaine's muscle ached from the force of the hold making the words he had yet to speak to another person, save Kurt, jump from his lips. "He's my boyfriend."

And just like that the hand was gone from his arm, and a scowl was replace with the brightest smile Blaine could ever imagine gracing Puck's face. His entire demeanor seemed to change. "So you're a queer too! So how long have you two been fuckin'?"

Blaine sputtered in response not sure how to answer. Luckily (or unluckily depending on how you looked at it) Puck didn't seem to be deterred by Blaine lack of response or the redness of his face. Instead, he put his hand in the middle of Blaine's back and steered him into the barn talking all the while. "Man, who knew I would miss so much being gone for a month. I know this didn't happen the last time I was here; I can smell sex a mile away. Kurt!" He yelled up to the rafters as they entered the barn, a smile still consuming his face.

Kurt's head popped over the edge of the loft. "Puck how many times to I have to tell you; don't scream at me while I'm working. Blaine! I didn't know you were coming today!" He said completely forgetting about Puck as soon as their eyes met. Kurt scrambled down the ladder and pulled Blaine into an embrace. The joy of seeing Kurt, of having him in his arms made the rest of the world melt away. Without thought, Blaine kissed those ever-inviting lips. Kurt responded immediately, lips and tongues caressing and dancing, until a loud hoot and sharp pain broke through Blaine's trance as Kurt bit his lip in surprise.

"Looks like you two boys have some catching up to do, never say Puck is a cock block. We'll talk business when you two come up for air," Puck said when the boys looked at him. With a cackling laugh, he strutted out the door.

Kurt laughed, "See oddly accepting." He said before claiming Blaine's lips once more. The moment before losing himself to the kiss, Blaine couldn't help but think how nice it was to know someone was excited for what they had found.

That weekend was different. It wasn't just Blaine lost in the world of Kurt, only seeing Quinn during a hastily eaten meal. Once it became dark and they emerged from the barn, lips kiss swollen, their hard-ons finally subsiding; the meal that followed was full of stories and laughter shared by all four. Afterwards, they found themselves in the living room, Puck with his guitar singing together. It was wholly more intimate than their first sing along; filled with smiles, Blaine curled up in Kurt's arms, his breath tickling the shell of Blaine's ear as his sweet voice filled the air.

That night in bed, Blaine felt bold and finally pulled Kurt on top of him as they kissed. The weight and press making him feel freer than ever before. His body seemed to know just what to do as his hip lifted and their cocks brushed for the first time, only thin layers of fabric separating them. The sweet agony of that simple touch filled Blaine with more daring. Their needy moans harmonizing in a tantalizing way, their kisses deep and wanting; Blaine slid his hand down the back of Kurt's boxers feeling his soft round ass, silently asking for what he wanted, what he needed. Kurt pulled back for a second; eyes piercing Blaine's in the faint moonlight from the window. Blaine felt more exposed, but entirely at peace in that moment than ever in his life. A small smile bloomed on Kurt's pinked lips before he sat back, exposing his pale muscular body to Blaine's eyes. With sureness, he slid his boxers slowly down his thighs, making his dick catch and spring back up. Blaine was mesmerized by the sight. Kurt was long and thick, flushed and glistening with the want he surely felt. Blaine's breathe hitched not in fear or anxiety but with a deep need and with the thought that _he_ was the one who had this effect on Kurt.

Blaine longed to reach out and touch Kurt, to take him in his hand as he had only ever done to himself and make him writhe in pleasure. Before he could act on this thought, Kurt's hands were stroking up his thighs as he asked, "You too?" His voice was deeper with want and the breathless quality stole any audible response away from Blaine who just nodded. He lifted his hips as Kurt tangled his fingers in the waistband of his briefs and slowly dragged them down and off Blaine's legs. There for the first time, Blaine lay naked, hard and with desire coursing through his entire body, with another person, another man, with _Kurt. _

Blaine reached for Kurt too far away, needing him back and close. As their lips touched, so did the rest of their bodies, igniting every point of contact. Blaine found his voice once more, "Kurt... I want you," he moaned as Kurt trailed kisses down the side of his neck.

Kurt's chuckle reverberated through every cell of Blaine making the need grow even more. "You have me, I'm right here."

Blaine felt lost in the sensation, Kurt's lips slip sliding across his sweat-dampened skin, dicks brushing and grinding together with delicious friction, being invade by Kurt with all his senses. Blaine wanted more; he wanted everything. "I _need_ you," he moaned, "please, please, please…" he chanted with each sift of their hips.

A low moan rent through the air as Kurt pulled back meeting Blaine's eyes with his own, dark and wide with lust. "Not yet baby, I don't want to hurt you and I don't think we can stop... Oh god... I don't think I could... leave you now to get what... what we need."

Tears welled in Blaine's eyes not just from disappointment, but compounded with the sheer need coursing through his body. Everything was all too much but not enough. That all disappeared as one of Kurt's hands encircled them and his lips once more found Blaine's. They kissed and panted into each other's mouths as Blaine could feel his release coiling tighter and tighter in his gut. A cry of Kurt's name and he was coming in long spurts covering them with his cum. His eyes opened as he started to come down from his high, just as Kurt's eyes closed his head thrown back and he keened Blaine's name before collapsing on top of him. They lay panting together Kurt's weight on top of Blaine, and he could barely believe what had just happened. Blaine kissed Kurt's cheeks his chin, his lips, everywhere he could reach in between whispered words half formed in the air. "Thank you... so glad I found you...so beautiful... so amazing."

After a few minutes, Kurt shifted before rolling off Blaine entirely. Blaine couldn't help the noise of protest at the loss. His heart beat out a rhythm not at all related to his orgasm. He needed Kurt near and hated the idea of any space separating them. "Don't leave me..." He mumbled into the dark. The sad smile on Kurt's face when he turned back to him did nothing to help the panic growing in him.

"I'm just going to get something to clean us up and then I will be right back. I promise," he said allowing Blaine to breathe again.

Kurt retrieved a rag and wet it from the pitcher sitting on his dresser. It was cold on Blaine's still overheated skin as he gently washed away any reminder of what had just happened. Once Blaine was clean, Kurt did the same to himself. Blaine wanted to protest, to take the rag out of his hand and do the job himself, but the sight before him was too mesmerizing to move. Seeing Kurt standing there, no longer aroused seemed more intimate than it did moments ago, more vulnerable. Kurt was beautiful, pale skin stretched over lean muscles. "You're gorgeous," he whispered and watched a blush paint Kurt's chest, neck, and face.

Kurt threw the rag into a pile of clothes in the corner, and rejoined Blaine in bed. "_You _are extraordinary," he whispered before Blaine once again wrapped himself up in Kurt's arms.

Waking up next to a naked Kurt was an experience unlike any other and one Blaine hope he would get to experience again and again. Kurt's sleepy smile added in made Blaine not want to leave the bed. Unfortunately, Kurt could not be persuaded and slipped out before Blaine could take advantage of their state of undress.

With kisses and laughter, they both dressed for their morning chores giddier than the early morning hour called for. Blaine was shocked when they emerged from the room only to come face to face with Puck leaning against the opposite wall with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fun night boys?" He asked with a wink. Blaine blushed while Kurt just shook his head and left the two men behind as he descended the stairs.

Puck worked with them that morning making their work go by even faster. Of course, his help meant they had to endure a morning of teasing and innuendos; but by the mid-morning, they were finished. To Blaine's surprise though, Kurt insisted he use the shower (alone) first.

"I have to run into town and it's just faster," he said with a shrug.

Not wanting to seem needy, or as if he couldn't trust Kurt, Blaine just nodded. Kurt gave him a quick kiss before running to retrieve his clothes from upstairs. Puck eyed him for a minute before speaking, "You play any instruments?" He asked.

"Um... piano and I sing, that's it," Blaine said, not sure where this would be leading.

"Want to learn to play guitar?" He asked, clearly trying hard to make the situation less awkward, so Blaine agreed.

This is how Blaine found himself sitting on the front porch after his own shower with a man he only knew as Puck (which he thought couldn't be his real name) holding a guitar while the other man shifted his fingers to the right position; all the while having a great time. Puck while gruff and tactless also seemed gentle and kind. His love for music was clear, but Blaine also caught him throwing longing looks through the window to Quinn as she tended to Beth. Blaine knew better than to ask, so just immersed himself in the task at hand.

By the time Kurt returned hours later, Blaine had mastered four chords. Blaine had heard the truck bumping towards them on the driveway, but continued practicing shifting between chords. He listened to the truck door as it creaked open and slammed shut, still concentrating on his fingers. He saw Kurt's feet approach but continued to play. He felt the brush of Kurt's leg as she sat next to Blaine, and then heard the twang of a missed chord. He looked sheepishly up at Kurt's proud face.

"You were doing so well." He said before planting a kiss of Blaine's flaming cheek. Running his fingers through Blaine's curls, he added. "I didn't know you wanted to learn."

Blaine couldn't contain a smile, "Puck offered, seemed like fun."

Blaine helped Kurt carry the new art supplies up to the loft, and that afternoon sat and continued to practice as Kurt painted. He knew it made it even more obvious when he lost himself to the vision of Kurt at work, but he liked the feel of the string beneath his fingers. Pride bloomed in him when as the light began to fade, Kurt wrapped him in his arms and said, "You are learning so quickly, you're a natural."

That night after dinner, Kurt slipped away, leaving Blaine at the table in the middle of a conversation with Puck. He tried not to look too longingly after him as he left the kitchen. Unfortunately, it seemed he did not succeed. "So really, tell me how long this had been going on." Puck said. They both ignored the groan from Quinn before she too left the table.

"Um... well... I came back the week after we met. I just... he's..." Blaine didn't know how to explain it, not to someone who wasn't Kurt. For weeks he had longed to be able to tell someone about this, to be able to open up to someone about everything he was feeling and experiencing. Now that he could though, he was at a loss for words. He didn't know what name to call the feelings that erupted at the mere thought of Kurt; he didn't know how to explain the pull he seemed to feel towards the man.

Puck seemed to examine him for a minute before speaking. "Kurt is a good guy. I know that he has been lonely here, but I don't see that anymore." Blaine wanted to protest, Kurt was the liveliest person he knew and the thought of him as lonely seemed foreign. However, Puck continued, "As long as you two are good we are good. But I'm not like Kurt man, if you do anything to dampen his spirit I will not hesitate to beat the crap out of you. I don't care about the queer thing, and Kurt can take care of himself, but he is my brother, dig it."

Blaine swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, "Yeah, I dig it man." Before he could think of anything else to say, footsteps sounded on the stair, announcing Kurt return. He had a large worn duffle bag slung over one shoulder and a soft smile of his face. "Blaine, come with me?" He asked extending his hand for Blaine to take. It felt natural to walk with Kurt like this. Kurt led them out the door and began walking towards the clearing. "I thought we could spend the night out here tonight... if you want... it just a little more private, with Puck here and all." He said softly. He stopped at the truck and retrieved a brown paper bag, and then everything shifted into place. Blaine understood why Kurt had to go to town that day for new art supplies. Blaine remembered through his haze of desperation about them needing something. The surge of want propelled him forward, wrapping his arms around Kurt's neck and pulling him into a hot kiss.

"Yeah, let's go." He whispered once he pulled back. The smile of Kurt's face was all Blaine needed.

In the clearing, Kurt asked Blaine to clear the ground and set up the bed as he started a fire. Blaine opened the duffle bag to find blankets and quilts neatly rolled up. He cleared the area of rocks and sticks before laying out a palette for them to lie on. He had just placed two pillows side by side when he felt arms encircle his waist and lips brush the side of his neck. Slowly they kissed, Blaine finally spinning around in Kurt's arms to better the angle.

Shirts were soon removed, before Kurt kneeled on the blankets, bringing Blaine with him. Gently Kurt pushed him onto his back, the cotton of the blankets cool on his overheated skin. Blaine's mind was spinning, as Kurt seemed intent to touch and kiss every inch of his chest. He was losing himself to the sensation when firm hands began caressing the waistband of his jeans, silently asking permission. All Blaine could do was nod and gasp as the air reached his lust-swollen cock when Kurt quickly removed both layers at once. Kurt's hand explored one leg, as his mouth aquatinted itself with the other. Blaine couldn't contain his moans anymore, every nerve seemed to have awakened in his body with each touch, each slide and suck of Kurt's mouth. Kurt then traveled back up the other leg, soothing the first with his hand.

Blaine's wanton noises increased as Kurt began to suck and bite on his hip. His dick was aching from too much desire and not enough attention. "Please," Blaine found himself repeating unconsciously, but he couldn't find the brainpower to stop himself if he had tried. A low moan cut off the mantra as hands cupped his balls and heat engulfed the head of his cock. Unbidden, Blaine's hips rocked up, filling Kurt's mouth, causing him to pull off coughing.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Blaine cried, seeing the tears gathering in Kurt's eyes as he continued to cough.

"Hey," Kurt soothed his voice low and crackly. "It's alright; we have plenty of time to practice that. Turn over please."

Blaine was unsure what would come after this request; but the bliss he had already found from Kurt's attention, and his mind still reeling at the thought of that warm heat around his cock again, he obliged. He was not disappointed, for as soon as he flipped over, Kurt's mouth and hands were once again working over his back. However, now, Blaine could ease some of his own need. As Kurt caressed, kissed, nipped, and sucked on Blaine's back he found himself grinding into the blankets beneath him.

The air was filled with moans and cries if pleasure from both men as Kurt worked his way lower. Expecting the same treatment as before, Blaine was surprised when the next touches landed on his ass. Kurt kneaded his cheeks while kissing and licking his way down Blaine's spine. Blaine's skin was on fire and the cotton rubbing against his needy member was doing little to squelch it. It was then, he felt Kurt's flat tongue lave over his Puckered entrance. "Oh my god, oh my god, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt..." He repeated into the night unable to understand how so much pleasure can come from such a spot. "Please, please, please..."

Relentlessly Kurt worked his mouth and tongue over the place; kissing and licking, occasionally slipping his tongue into the warmth that lay behind. Blaine was prisoner to his passion, feeling so much, but unable to control his reactions. He felt like sobbing when Kurt pulled away. "Roll back over sweetheart," he whispered. Almost without thought Blaine complied. He was not prepared for the sight that met him. Kurt was kneeling beside him now, his face red and spit moistened from his previous efforts. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his skin in the moon and firelight and the front of his jeans were tented from his obvious desire. Just the thought of Kurt being so hard, so turned on by doing things to _him _sprung Blaine to action. He sat up, immediately looping his fingers in Kurt's belt loops, bringing him forward into a long passionate kiss. His hands fumbled with the button on Kurt's jeans, but pushed away Kurt's hands as he tried to help. Finally, the button popped free and he carefully lowered the zipper exposing Kurt's cock to the moonlight.

Blaine pushed the jeans down Kurt's legs before guiding him to sit, so he could remove them completely. His mouth seemed to be drawn to the porcelain skin and Blaine could not resist the pull. He wanted to claim every inch as his. The noises Kurt made as he sucked on each nipple spurned him on. Lower and lower he mouthed his way down Kurt's chest as his hands gripped Blaine's shoulders. Feeling his dick beginning to pinch between his stomach and legs, he guided Kurt up to his knees. The motion also brought Kurt's long thick cock before his eyes. Blaine didn't resist this urge either and licked a swipe up the smooth flesh. Pre-cum glistened at the tip, which he collected with his tongue. The salty almost bitter taste on his mouth was fascinating and sent another wave of arousal through him.

However, Kurt had other ideas, or other needs, because before Blaine could do anything else he was being pulled into another heated kiss. Their cocks brushed as they pulled each other closer, their bodies aligned as much as their statures would allow. Hands caressed and explored, as their mouths danced. Blaine wanted more. Before he knew it, he was panting the same word over and over in Kurt's mouth. "More, more, more…"

Kurt finally pulled away from his mouth. "It's okay lover, I've got you," he soothed. "Lie down and let me take care of you."

Blaine knew he could trust Kurt to do just that, so followed his instructions. He lay panting on the blankets, watching Kurt stand and walk towards the brown bag from before. He pulled from the bag a new tub of Vaseline. His unspoken question must have been on his face, because when Kurt returned he smoothed his hands down Blaine's arms and whispered, "I want to take care of you... it can hurt... but I will be slow and careful and... this should help." For the first time that night, a spark of fear ignited in Blaine. He never thought of pain. Before the spark could catch though, Kurt's hand was on his cheek. "I promise; if it is too much, or you don't like it, I will stop, just say so." Blaine took in a breath before nodding.

Kurt opened the container, but laid it aside and Blaine found his mind and mouth once again occupied with passionate kisses. Kurt pulled back and once again kissed and licked his way down Blaine's chest, but quicker this time. By the time Kurt was nosing at the coarse hair surrounding his dick, Blaine was lost in his lust. Kurt's mouth closed around the head of his cock as one of his arms pressed Blaine's back to the ground. So absorbed in the sensation, Blaine didn't register a slick finger rubbing with increased pressure at his hole, until it began to press in. A moan was cut off by the sudden foreign sensation, but returned in full force at the drag. Their eyes met, as Kurt looked up at him, Blaine's dick still in his mouth as he sucked, checking to see how he was. Blaine felt himself smile as he nodded to his lover. It was like nothing he had ever imagined as Kurt pushed, pulled, and twisted his lone finger inside him, all the while sucking and pumping his cock with his mouth. Kurt slipped his finger out and Blaine's noise of protest turned into a keen as two fingers took its place. He felt his desire building and frantically grabbed at Kurt's hair, pulling him off. Immediately Kurt stilled all movement, save pulling his mouth off to speak, "Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, just too close... too much... don't want to stop yet." Blaine panted still somewhat overwhelmed.

Kurt's smile seemed to light the whole clearing. His fingers began to move again inside Blaine, stretching him more. "Feel good?" Kurt asked moving so he was hovering closer to Blaine's face. Blaine could only moan and nod. Kurt kissed Blaine's neck as he continued to work his fingers inside him. "Another?" he asked against Blaine's neck after a while. "Oh god, please," Blaine moaned at the thought of being filled more.

A slight burn screwed Blaine's face up as the three fingers entered him. Kurt slowly worked them in, twisting his wrist as he went. "Okay?" He asked watching Blaine's face. He continued to work slowly as Blaine nodded. After a minute he could speak, "I'm great, perfect." Blaine then grabbed Kurt's face kissing him hard, trying to distract himself from the lingering ache. The change of position did something and Blaine arched up, moaning wantonly into Kurt's mouth. "What was that?" He panted.

Kurt's face seemed mesmerized by the sight and he shook his head clearly not sure what he had found but rubbed that spot again and again. Blaine cried out at the sparks that seemed to shoot through him at the contact. "You... I want you... please..." He cried.

Kurt stilled his movement. "If you're sure," he said breathless.

"Yes" Blaine breathed, and then Kurt was gone.

In a bout of panic, Blaine raised himself on his elbows at the loss of contact from Kurt. The sight that met his eyes gave him a renewed hunger. Kurt was sitting back on his feet staring at the space his fingers had just left. His right hand slowly pumping more Vaseline up and down his shaft; coating it, making it glisten in the firelight. His kiss swollen bottom lip was being further abused by his teeth as it was sucked into his mouth. A lustful yet thoughtful look filled his face. His eyes never left Blaine's ass he murmured, "Toss me a pillow." Captivated by the image in front of him, Blaine obliged, grabbing the pillow beside the one his head rested on, he tossed it weakly to his lover. "Lift up," Kurt gently ordered, nudging Blaine's hip with the pillow. Kurt gently stuffed the pillow beneath the small of his back. The change must have been what he was looking for because Blaine then watched as his eyes widened and he licked his lips hungrily.

Blaine wove his arms around Kurt's neck as soon as he returned to his previous position and pulled him down into a lustful kiss. His breath caught when he felt the blunt pressure of Kurt's cock at his entrance. "Shh… I have you," Kurt whispered in his ear, which he preceded to nibble on as he pushed forward. Pressure gave way to a sharp sting as Kurt breeched him. Slowly Blaine felt himself being filled, with each inch he felt like he couldn't possibly handle more. Yet, even then, Kurt would pull back slightly only to give him more. Blaine felt his body opening up to the intrusion. His heart stuttered in his chest with each push and pull. With one final thrust, Kurt stilled, his balls brushing Blaine's cheeks as he trembled over him. Blaine could feel tears stinging his eyes; both from the slight pain and the overwhelming enormity of it all. He was literally surrounded and filled with Kurt. His weight above him, the smell all around Blaine, his soft skin igniting every inch of his body, he could even taste him on his tongue as he panted. All he could see was Kurt's face, looking down on him utter bliss written into his features, but concern lacing his eyes. Blaine's mind whirled at the thought that Kurt was _inside _him; that feeling of fullness, of completeness was from Kurt's dick, from _Kurt_. He felt a tear roll from his right eye only to be swept away by Kurt's satiny hand.

"Are you alright?" He panted, clearly trying to hold himself back from his need.

Blaine took a second to access himself. The pain was receding, and everything while overwhelming was tinged by an enormous feeling of rightness. "Perfect," Blaine finally panted, "now move."

Kurt surged forward, attacking Blaine's lips with his own, as he pulled back his hips. The slide and pull causing Blaine to arch his back and moan into Kurt mouth. Kurt began steadily to thrust in and out, each movement igniting more and more nerves throughout Blaine. His legs wrapped around Kurt waist, changing the angle once more, sending Kurt straight into that spot inside Blaine making him cry out. Blaine began to pull with his legs, meeting each thrust as they sped. Each thrust seemed to knock the breath out of Blaine, so he was panting, barely able to catch his breath as he moaned into the night air. He could feel the familiar tightening signaling his orgasm, but it was sharper; he felt more out of control. Blaine heard himself chanting Kurt's name between groans if pleasure and sharp breathes. Above him, sweat was gathering and rolling down Kurt. He was mumbling words that Blaine in his ecstasy could not make out. Everything in the world had been boiled down to Kurt as he fucked into him. "Touch me," Blaine begged. Kurt shifted once more, bringing his hand between them and capturing Blaine's rock hard member. A few more thrust, Kurt's hand moving with his body, Blaine felt himself tip over the edge as he body tightened and released. He could feel his cum splatter up his chest and his ass squeeze tightly around Kurt inside him. He opened his eyes to see Kurt staring intensely into them moments before he shuddered above him. Blaine was amazed to feel Kurt's cock pulsing in his ass as warmth spilled into him as he came.

Kurt's arms seemed to give out and he crumpled on top of Blaine. Both lay there like that panting as they tried to catch their breath. Blaine could feel Kurt softening inside him, and the sticky squish and slide of his own cum between them. Everything that just happened came crashing down on him and he started giggling unable to control himself. Kurt pulled back looking at him with a sweet smile on his face, "what is so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing..." Blaine said trying to reign in his giggles. "I'm just... That was...wow."

Kurt kissed him sweetly, slowly. "Yes, wow" he whispered. As he pulled out, Blaine whined at the loss and oversensitivity. He watched as Kurt walked on shaky legs to grab a cloth and dipped it into the water bucket to clean them. Once cleaned up, they lay wrapped in each other's arms, murmuring to each other about the experience. Words soon faded away as sleep over took them.

The next morning Blaine was surprised wake to the sun. On any other day on the farm the pair would be up well before the sun itself. Now it was creeping up and they still lay entwined together on their makeshift bed. Kurt lay with his head nestled on Blaine's chest, his eye lashes brushing his cheek with a look of dreamy contentment. Blaine hated to wake him, but feared upsetting Kurt if the morning chores weren't done. However, Blaine could not waste this rare treat of being able to wake Kurt for a change. As was Kurt's favorite way of waking him, Blaine began peppering Kurt's face with kisses while caressing his arms and back. Only when Kurt began to stir did Blaine refocus his lips to Kurt's, holding them both in thrall at the touch. All too soon, knowing they needed to get up, Blaine pulled away.

"Good morning," He whispered.

"Indeed it is," Kurt smiled back. "How are you feeling this morning," he asked concern clear on his face.

Blaine's heart pounded at the care he felt from Kurt. "Perfect," he assured. It was true, though he hadn't moved, he felt wonderful.

"But as much as I would love to stay here all day with you, and allow you to make your own assessment of my physical well being; don't we have chores to do?"

Kurt's eyes seemed to light with something. "Nope," he said punctuating it with a deep lustful kiss. "Puck has assured me he could handle everything himself this morning, and that he would stay far away from this clearing just for us."

"How very thoughtful of him," Blaine managed before diving in for another kiss.

They didn't emerge from the clearing again until well after lunchtime, their need for nourishment putting a damper on round three. When they entered the house, Puck crowed with mirth at their rustled state, and Quinn quickly departed with the excuse of giving Beth a nap. At first, it was awkward sitting across the table from Puck to eat their meal with him throwing them knowing glances all the while. Although when Kurt took Blaine's hand in his own, the teasing didn't seem to matter anymore. It helped as well that coming from Puck, Blaine could tell it contained no malice; he was merely a friend who was happy for them both.

For once Blaine didn't follow Kurt immediately up to the loft. Instead, partially by Kurt's insistence, he stayed behind and received another guitar lesson from Puck. They didn't talk much about anything other than chords and technique; but to Blaine it almost felt as nice as hanging out with Nick and Jeff.

He felt bad, since he had started coming to the farm he didn't seem to have as much time for his friends. It was true, they still shared many classes together, not to mention the Warblers; but aside from doing homework occasionally in the same room, they hadn't really spent time together. Blaine would have liked to remedy that, but couldn't even think of spending less time here. Pushing it out of his mind, he focused on learning from Puck while he could.

Kurt and Blaine spent more evenings than not out in the clearing after that, only sleeping in his bed if it was raining. They learned more about the other and not just physically. In that clearing them both really began to truly fall.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of Blaine's senior year seemed to fly by. With the freedom he found on the farm every weekend, and his weeks filled with homework and thoughts of Kurt; before he knew it finals were over and he was packing up his dorm room ready to say goodbye to Dalton and his friends. His parents, namely his mother, had been understanding of his 'scholarly obligations' and didn't seem to object to his excuse of mounting homework. If his time with Kurt hadn't been so precious to him, he might have been hurt by the easy way he talked himself out of returning home each week. He dreaded having to spend any time away from Kurt, but knew that for at least a few days he would have to spend time with his family.

Thankfully, he had a plan; he just had to hope that Jeff and Nick would go along with it. Graduation was set for the next day after which he would have to leave with his family. He just needed to talk to his best friends before then. At the moment though he was packing his dorm room. Half-filled boxes and suitcases littered the room, as he stood in their midst his hair wild and free (longer now than it had ever been before in his life. It now took more and more pomade to tame his curls to Dalton standards, but seeing Kurt's face light up when he saw them made it worth it) dressed in jeans and a plain white undershirt, eyeing the things that amounted to his life. He glanced out the window where a painting on glass Kurt had given him stood propped, casting colors across the room. He loved having a little bit of Kurt in this space, loved the feeling that at least some part of him was here too. He had just reached into his closet to retrieve another handful of shirts when he heard it.

"Dear Prudence, wont you come out to play…"

He would know that voice anywhere. Without a second thought, he sprinted to the window, carefully setting aside the pane of painted glass.

"Dear Prudence, it's a brand new day…"

He threw the window open, spying a lithe figure just barely visible through the trees.

"The sun is out, the sky is blue, it's beautiful, and so are you. Dear Prudence wont you come out to play." Kurt sang a laugh evident in his voice.

Blaine barked a joyful laugh, excitement bubbling up from within him. Kurt was here, at Dalton. Kurt whom, he thought he wouldn't get to see until he pried himself away from his family once more. He was here singing out to him. After a quick nod, Blaine bolted for his door. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the occasional shout from unseen faces as he made his way out of the building and to the woods just behind the dorms.

The lawn was free of people, most students stuck in their rooms packing. Then there he was, Kurt standing there with the brightest smile on his face. "You're here." Blaine panted coming to a stop bare inches in front of Kurt.

"That I am," Kurt laughed, "I just couldn't let you walk across that stage tomorrow without seeing you and telling you how proud I am of you."

Even after almost three months, Blaine still couldn't control his need to blush anytime Kurt complimented, or hell even looked at him. "It's just high school." He shrugged; like always not feeling deserving of Kurt's words.

"It's not just high school I am proud of you for Blaine," Kurt said, taking his hand and leading him deeper into the trees. "That's part of it, but… I've watched you these last few months, and you've… It was like you were this caged bird, you were beautiful and enchanting, but there was no spark in your eyes. It's as if you broke out of your cage and learned to fly again. And _now_ you are even more beautiful and enchanting than ever before."

Blaine could only look at Kurt, his eyes sparkled and there was intensity behind his eyes that Blaine had only caught glimpses of during their more intimate moments. He did feel changed since meeting Kurt, experiencing Kurt. He took a step forward, closing the little distance between them, but just lay a hand on Kurt's cheek and whispered his name.

"I have something for you." Kurt whispered, as if he spoke any louder a spell would be broken. "Since, I can't be with you tomorrow; I wanted you to have something of me, to remind you how proud I am of you and how much you mean to me."

Blaine's eyes didn't leave Kurt's face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black box wrapped in an old age-yellowed ribbon. Not until Kurt stepped back and presented the gift did Blaine shift his focus. With shaking hands, Blaine reached for the box to open it. He untied the ribbon and stuffed it into his pockets, before lifting the lid off. Inside nestled on an old handkerchief, was a slightly dented pocket watch. He noticed the initials RHE engraved on the back before lifting it out gently. On the front etched carefully into the silver was a bird flying, a broken cage lying discarded behind it. Tears sprang to Blaine's eyes as he took in the picture, clearly done by Kurt's talented hand. "Oh Kurt…" was all that made it out of his mouth.

"It was my grandfather's watch, his dad gave it to him the day he married my grandmother. He never went a day in his life without that on him; he said it reminded him that while our time on earth is limited, it is the good we do and the people we love that are important. It would mean a lot to me for you to have it." Kurt ducked his head in a rare show of bashfulness, "I wanted something to make it your own too, so…"

"I love it, thank you," Blaine rushed to say, pulling Kurt forward into a hug. He lost himself in Kurt's sure arms and buried his head against the smooth, soft column of his neck, taking in his scent, grounding himself once more. His heart swelled at the thought of how much this one small trinket meant. It was more that a watch, even more than a family heirloom. Never before had anyone given him something that held so much meaning.

Unable to resist temptation anymore, Blaine found Kurt's lips with his own. They spent a good deal of time speaking without words, hidden in the trees just outside of the school that for so long kept Blaine caged in ways he hadn't even imagined. Blaine panted, barely even containing his groans as Kurt paid special attention to his neck, knowing just how much it drove him wild. Blaine wanted nothing more in that moment that to be whisked away to the farm, where no barriers lay between him and Kurt, where they could just be two lovers without the scorn of the outside world. He wanted Kurt completely, as he had with such a deep longing since even before they had begun the more sexual side of their relationship. Unfortunately, this was not the time or the place for such things. As if by an unspoken cue, they pulled apart, smiles on their faces, but sadness in their eyes that this is how it had to be no matter what they may want. Blaine pulled them over to sit at the base of a tree their hand entwined, wanting just to be together as long as they could.

"How did you get here?" Blaine asked, knowing that as magical as Kurt may seem, he couldn't just appear here at will.

Kurt smiled that smile Blaine had come to think of as only his, affection deep in his eyes. "Puck dropped me off just outside the gate on his way into Westerville. I had to promise him I would let him and Quinn have hamburgers tonight. Although it is still technically my truck… it was worth it to be able to see you."

Blaine could barely keep still; he was so filled with emotion. "I am so glad you came." He said, feeling like one of the flailing girls he had seen when The Beatles sang.

Kurt squeezed his hand, "When do you think I will be able to see you again?" he asked.

Blaine wanted nothing more than to beg Kurt to take him away right at that moment. He would have gladly given up everything for the man; but knew that as much as they meant to each other, Kurt would not approve of such actions. So instead of begging, Blaine said, "I'm not sure yet, I think I have a plan to be able to spend the summer with you, but I won't know for sure until I talk to Nick and Jeff, my parents as well. If I can't get everything worked out, I will try and make it out to your place soon anyway. I can't stand the thought of not seeing you."

Kurt nodded but sadness lay behind his eyes again, "I understand. Blaine, just because my family is all gone, doesn't mean you should give yours up; I want you to be able to spend time with them. I will however miss you like crazy." A small smile graced his face.

Blaine shook his head, "I _want_ to spend time with you. My family… it's all such a show, this grand façade that I don't fit into any more…" He turned to Kurt needing to hear what Kurt had to say, "Your dad… do you think he knew, or would have accepted you?"

Kurt seemed taken aback by the questions, "Um… I don't know. I mean I never told him, I knew for such a long time before he died… but I never actually came out and said it. I told him I didn't think I would ever get married, that I wasn't really interested in the girls in town." Another small smile erupted at some far off memory. "He would just shrug his shoulders, smile and say, 'I guess there's more to life than girls.' He didn't seem to mind that I wanted to go to school to be an artist; he always told me the world needed just a little more beauty in it. I think maybe, if I had been brave enough to tell him, he might have accepted me, as long as I was happy. We'll never know though."

A new type of loneliness enveloped Blaine. Even more than ever before it felt like Blaine and Kurt against the world. "I know my dad wont. Since I was a boy I have been told what was expected of me, and that is just not who I am. Not just the wife and kids… but everything. I don't want to be a lawyer, I think I want to write, and there is so much power in the written word… I want to make people feel something. They are going to hate me… but I'm not going to break myself to be who they want me to be. If I did I would hate me, and that is something I can't do anymore."

"You don't have to tell them." Kurt said, trying to be reassuring.

"If it was just about _us,_" Blaine said anger at his parents, the world growing, "that would be one thing. But there is absolutely nothing about me that lines up with what they want. I have tried for so many years to be the perfect son and I am so tired of it. I want to be me, I want to be happy… and the life they are offering me is just not going to cut it. I may end up losing them in the long run… I guess if I can put that off for a little while, and do it in your arms… then that is alright by me."

Kurt pulled him into his arms, stroking his arm lightly while peppering his head with kisses, "Oh honey, I will gladly be your shelter from the storm. I would never tell you to stay away. My days are so much better when you are there, so I would gladly spend a lifetime with you. I just don't want you to regret pushing your family away."

"I have a new family now, a strange self made family, I think I will be okay."

An hour later, Blaine rushed back to his dorm room, needing to finish packing so he could change before dinner service ended. Not even worrying about where things went he flung one thing after another into the boxes. In less than half an hour, the rest of his belongings, save what he would need in the morning were packed away. He was just stripping off his undershirt, ready to trade it for a dress shirt when his dorm room door burst open. Standing there gawking at him were Nick and Jeff. After recovering from their abrupt entrance, Blaine moved to finish dressing. It wasn't until he was buttoning his shirt and neither had yet spoken that he glanced over at them again.

They still stood frozen in the doorway, eyes glued to him, mouths hanging open. Blaine started to laugh at the absurdity of it, but it died quickly when they did not join in. "What's wrong guys?" he asked truly beginning to worry.

"Blaine…" Jeff began, finally shutting the door behind them. "Man, who you been necking?"

Blaine's hand immediately when to his still exposed neck, "Shit."

All of a sudden it seemed like the world was closing in on him. Panic flared, and he couldn't breathe so he just collapsed on top of his bed.

"It can't be that bad, man. What is she someone's mom or something?" He said clearly trying to make a joke.

Blaine just shook his head and looked at them with terror clear in his eyes. This was the moment when everything could explode; but he couldn't think of one lie to save him. He was so tired of lying; to himself, to the world, to his family and friends. Never before had one more lie felt like it was going to crush him. And there his friends stood, looking so concerned, not knowing that they were on the cusp, not knowing that in just a moment their friendship could end. There would be no slow drifting apart brought about by busy lives at separate universities, different cities. Instead, this could end with disgust or even blows. Would they beat him up, spit hate filled words at him as their fists collided with his body? Would they shout to the world about his 'sickness'; convince his family to have him committed, all before he could run to the arms of his lover? But then even the farm wouldn't be safe, they knew it was where he spent every weekend. Would they figure it out, go after Kurt as well? Would he and Kurt suffer at the hands of the two best friends he had ever known? Sickness invaded his belly as the weight of all that could crashed down upon him; and still he could think of no lie.

"Man, really, I was just kidding? She can't be that bad." Nick said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Blaine flinched, "He…" he said not even registering the word coming out of his mouth before it hung in the air like a banner.

Nick recoiled, making Blaine pull himself even smaller on his bed. "What?" he asked confused.

Silence filled the room, seeming to rob it of air. Blaine steeled himself; there was no turning back. Even if he could take his words back, he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He was tired to not being able to share the most important thing in his life with his best friends. Every time he returned from the farm, he longed to be able to gush about Kurt the way Nick would talk about Darla. It wouldn't be the same as telling Puck. He already knew because of Kurt that Puck was accepting. Here, he had so much more to lose. If it lost him his friends, then so be it, he just hoped they would remember their friendship enough to leave him alive and free.

He looked up at them, their eyes still filled with concern. He fingered the marks still exposed on his collarbone, "these are not from some girl… I'm… I'm a queer." He watched as his words, words he had only spoken once before, filtered through their brains. Jeff seemed to get it first.

"You're a fag?" he asked, brow scrunched in a way to either indicate confusion or disgust. Blaine could only nod his heart clenched.

"I don't understand." Jeff added.

Blaine shrugged his shoulder, "I… uh," he took a deep breath, "I'm… I like guys." He said simply as if it was a simple thing.

"That's not right though," Jeff said, Nick remaining silent just looking between the two uncertainly.

"Feels right to me." Blaine replied hanging his head.

"How?"

Blaine couldn't help but looking at Jeff again, he looked so lost and confused. A grain of hope grew in Blaine's chest maybe things would be alright. "Okay, picture yourself kissing a beautiful girl, how does that make you feel?" he instructed.

"Nice, turned on." Jeff smiled.

"Okay now, picture yourself kissing a guy. What is that like?"

Jeff scrunched his nose and shook his head, "I just can't do it, and it just feels wrong."

Blaine shrugged. "That is the way I feel when I think of kissing a girl. It just doesn't feel right. But Kurt…"

"Kurt?" Nick chocked out, finally speaking.

Blaine sighed, "yes, Kurt… my boyfriend, Kurt." He couldn't help the small smile that turned on his lips at his name. "When I'm with him it feels right."

"So that's what you have been doing all those weekends? And we've been covering for you?" Nick almost yelled.

"What I have been doing every weekend doesn't change the fact that _this _is who I am. Meeting Kurt… I just finally acted on all these things I have been feeling since for as long as I can remember." Blaine yelled back. He took a breath, regaining control of his raging emotions. "You know me; I have never been interested in girls. _This _is me, it doesn't change anything. I understand if you can't be my friends…"

"Whoa, who said that," Jeff cut him off.

"I understand if you can't be my friends," Blaine reiterated, "but if you could just I don't know, not kill me, or you know keep it to yourself, I will never ask anything of you again. I could lose everything, college, family… just because of this one part of me. I haven't changed, but if people knew…"

Nick seemed on the edge of something, but just turned and walked out the door.

"I'll talk to him," Jeff said hurrying after Nick, "I've got your back Blaine, I may not understand, but I guess I don't have to."

No longer hungry, Blaine undressed and slipped into bed. Thinking of Kurt, of Nick and Jeff, tears slipped down his cheek. He may have just lost everything and all he could do was lay there and wait, and hope that Jeff could do something about Nick. He held his pillow and cried, wishing that Kurt was there.

The room was dark, the sun finally set and Blaine having not moved to switch on a light. His body was exhausted, but his mind still raced not allowing him to sleep. He had no idea what time it was; lacking the energy to raise his head to look at his alarm clock. A tentative knock sounded at the door. Blaine couldn't bring himself to stand to answer it; not wanting to face whoever could be hidden behind the door. He hoped if he remained silent that the visitor would go on his way. Instead another knock sounded, louder this time, accompanied by a timid, "Blaine, it's me."

Jeff. Jeff who said he had his back. Blaine knew he couldn't turn his now. "Come in." he choked out, his voice gravelly from disuse and his tears.

Jeff flicked the lights as he entered, jarring Blaine where he lay staring at the ceiling. He stood in the doorway a moment taking in Blaine, who just closed his eyes and did not move. Quietly Jeff shut the door behind him and sat at the end of the bed near Blaine's feet. When he spoke his voice was quiet, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Blaine couldn't help the huff that passed through his lips at that nor could he help the disbelieving look he shot Jeff. "Really, I may have just lost one, if not both of my best friends just for trying to be myself. How do you think I am feeling?"

"I told you, I have you back, so you haven't lost me." Jeff said with a small smile.

"But Nick?" Blaine asked before he could stop himself.

Jeff shook his head sadly, "Just give him some time. He just doesn't know what to think right now; thinks you have been using us as a cover. He's mad, but he doesn't hate you… more hurt than anything I think."

"How do you think I feel?" Blaine asked finally sitting up. "I have wanted to tell you, but… the best thing to ever happen to me and I had to keep it a secret. Even if I could have been open about this, I was sure you wouldn't want the details. Do you know how scared I have been someone would find out? It's not that I am ashamed of Kurt or our relationship; but you and I both know that I would be shunned for this." He hung his head not wanting to look at Jeff when he spoke again. "I don't want to change who I am, I am falling in love for the first time in my life and it is magical. It also just happens to be a man."

"You love him?" Jeff asked. Blaine could feel his eyes boring into him.

"I do." He said, feeling a happiness ignite in him for the first time since Jeff and Nick stormed through his door. "He is amazing and kind and so talented. He is intelligent and handsome; he is everything I never thought I could dream for. All my life I tried to snuff out what I wanted, thought I was destined to live a loveless life; so I didn't even think about what I would want. Then I met Kurt and… I may never be able to be myself as fully and openly as I want; but if I can have Kurt… I think _that _will be a life worth living."

Jeff stood up, "What can I do to help?" he asked.

Blaine could feel his eyes widen and his mouth fall in disbelief. Just minutes ago he was sure all was lost and now here Jeff was offering to help. "Um, I need a way to get to stay at the farm this summer."

"You and me, are going on a road trip, maybe Nick if I can get him to agree." Jeff said with a smile. "I want to see some of the country before I head to Ohio State. If I can't get Nick to come along, I can just go it alone for a while. Maybe I can stop by the farm at some point; really meet this guy of yours?"

Blaine couldn't help it; he sprang from the bed and pulled Jeff into a bone crushing hug. "Thank you!" he yelped before pulling back, realizing that Jeff may no longer be comfortable with these displays of affection now that he knew about him. Instead of finding discomfort or horror in his friends face, he found him laughing with a beaming smile.

"Any time Blaine," he said and Blaine couldn't help but think Jeff knew exactly what he was thinking.

Blaine slowly stretched himself out on his bed, working out the kinks in his back as the previous night washed over him. Part of him felt liberated at his friends knowing finally, though it was bittersweet with Jeff's acceptance and Nick's coldness. Maybe, he thought, it wasn't so bad people knowing about him. However, that thought halted almost as soon as it formed; people knowing could and most likely would lead to no good, people in general were not ready to accept him and his love... not yet. Knowing that no good could come from his dwelling on it today, he got out of bed. He had a big, mask-filled day ahead of him.

After running to the dining hall to grab an apple, he returned to his room to ready himself for the day. No one interrupted him as he finished packing the few things he needed to and dressed for his final act as a Dalton boy. One last time, he vowed to himself, he ran his comb through his hair, taming it with ungodly amounts of pomade. He knew his mother would fuss seeing him, seeing just how long his hair had gotten. Knowing this bubbled guilt and anger in his stomach. He dressed carefully in his blazer and tie, the scratch of the material highlighting the cage it had come to represent. His robe in place, adorned with only his National Honors Society stole and the golden cord as part of the top ten percent. His hat lay off to the side ready. He looked at himself in the mirror. There stood the facade he worked valiantly for years to perfect. The perfect son, regarded for his intelligence, seen by others as a leader; and Blaine was ready to throw off that image, to nurture his own desires, not those of his parents. Fingering the bulge of the watch in his pocket, he grabbed his cap and walked out his dorm room door in the last step before he was free of this place.

Jeff waved to him as he entered the dining hall where they were set to gather before the ceremony. He returned the gesture, but the look on Nick's face discouraged him from approaching. The ceremony was just as boring and long winded as expected. Talk of the future; and how as Dalton students they were poised to be leaders of the next great generation filled the time. No one had the guts to say what kind of world they were inheriting, nor how privilege they were to have a certainty of a future. No one spoke of the things that really mattered; Blaine realized it was all just a show, one great facade. If they could just close their eyes to the way the world was changing, it would all just stop. Blaine knew better. Realizing he wasn't the only one in this room who had put a mask on over his true self, allowed him to drift away on thoughts of Kurt and their future, a true future, all the while tracing the shape of the watch in his pocket.

As expected, once the ceremony was over his family quickly found him, it was what was done in these situations after all. Their empty praises washed over him like cold water, chilling him in its insincerity. His mother fussed, indeed noticing how long his hair had become, tutting at him like an errant schoolboy. His father, silently taking in his son, eyes flickering over to Cooper, comparing the two; Blaine knew he was found lacking once again. Cooper, the good, dutiful son, once so exuberant and full of life, gave him a measure clap on the back and subdued congratulations. Blaine just rested his hand over his pocket, trying to draw energy and courage from Kurt. As his mother took a few pictures, Jeff approached he greeted Blaine's family as warmly as possible before asking if Blaine wanted his help bringing down his things. Taking the out, Blaine excused himself with the promise to meet them at his father's favorite restaurant for Blaine's celebratory meal.

Once safe in Blaine's room, Jeff turned to him and said, "Nick is out, says he won't do more covering up for you, but I've already broached the subject with my family. I said we planned to leave Wednesday morning."

Any disappointment he felt at Nick's refusal dissipated at finally knowing a date; just four more days until he would see Kurt again. With plans on where they would meet Wednesday set, they loaded Blaine's car. He offered to help Jeff load his own car but was waved off; he and Nick had already done it that morning. One last hug and he was off.

The steakhouse was busy with celebrations from both Dalton and the surrounding public schools. Blaine listened to his father and Cooper talk about cases at the firm, as his mother sat dutifully by feigning better than Blaine her interest in the subject. Of course, his father had to notice his indifference to the matter. "Blaine you really should care more about this, after all you will be a part of the firm before you know it. It won't do for you not to be familiar with the how things are done, don't want people to think you are just there because you are my son."

It made Blaine hot with anger; of course, that is why he would be there. But he wouldn't be. No, he was getting out; he was going to make his own way in the world. He refused to be just another part of the great facade that was his family, his society. However, he couldn't say this, not with his summer escape not yet a success. Not with his eighteenth birthday looming ever nearer, along with the fear of just what could happen to him if his father refused to pay for his school. So, he nodded, and tried to pay attention as they talked business he had no interest in. With dessert, his mother saved him and gave him the opening he was hoping for.

"So, honey, what are your plans for the summer?" She asked turning the table's attention to him again.

He swallowed his bite of chocolate cake before answering. "Actually, Jeff and I were planning on taking a road trip. You know since we will be going to different schools and it is the last summer at least one if us won't have to work." He said it with a shrug, as if it wasn't as big of a deal as it really was, hoping his parents would just agree and move on to another subject. He was not so lucky.

"When are you planning on leaving?" She asked.

"Um... Wednesday was the plan," he replied taking another bite of his cake.

She daintily put down her fork and focused wholly on his face, her displeasure evident. "But we have hardly seen you these last few months. I was looking forward to having my baby home for the summer."

"Helen, what have I told you about coddling the boy, you are going to turn him weak." James Anderson spat at his wife, making her recoil. "Now Blaine, where were you planning on going? Going to stay away from those hippie faggots, right?"

Blaine knew his father couldn't know; knew it was just a phrase, heard so many people using it before. That didn't help the sick feeling in Blaine's gut, or the shake of his hand that instinctively reached for his pocket. He knew though he had to speak, no one refuses to answer to his father. "No sir, of course not, just going to see some sights, Chicago, Philadelphia, maybe New York. Just want to see the country some before college."

This answer seemed to placate his father, and though he knew his mother hated the idea, he knew it didn't matter when his dad said, "It's good for young men to take charge of their lives; get any wildness out while their young, before they start their careers. Just make sure you are home in time to register, don't need people to think you're a coward."

August 22nd, that was when he would have to be back. His birthday, the year he would get to stand behind his privilege and let others fight in the war he didn't believe in.

Time with his parents was strangely normal. His father oddly didn't comment on the state of his hair; his mother fussed over him, trying to force more and more meat on his plate, something that was slowly beginning to turn his stomach. So much time spent with Kurt made him think more about what the pot roast on the table cost some innocent creature. It was becoming harder to stomach the thought. He knew however, if he didn't want to face the wrath of his father or the worry of his mother he couldn't let them see the more inward changes in him. He dutifully swallowed the food looking forward to his time with Kurt. With most of his possessions still in boxes, he packed a small bag with clothes. He left all his dress shirts and slacks behind, opting instead for his merger stash of T-shirts and jeans. He didn't need anything else; he was going home after all. The farm, it was his true home now.

The goodbyes were sadly lacking in emotion, his father acting as if he was just leaving on any other day of work. His mother too preoccupied with readying herself for her garden club meeting. Cooper didn't even come by to see his brother one last time before another months-long absence. Alone outside, Blaine threw his bag on the passenger seat and bid farewell to his childhood home.

Meeting Jeff was more of a formality than anything else. They both knew they would not be traveling together for any part of their next journey. Instead, Blaine just assured Jeff knew how to get to the farm again, and with a final hug, they parted. Blaine didn't rush to the farm, despite the long absence from his lover. He knew that they would not be parting for a summer, and safe in that knowledge, he drank in the warm late spring day as he drove. The radio played on as the dust kicked up behind his tires, his heart feeling freer than ever before as he let himself fly to Kurt.


	6. Chapter 6

Even with his contented easy pace Blaine found himself at the farm before noon. He knew where Kurt would be. The house was quiet when he parked his car beside it. The truck was gone telling him Puck was still away. Quinn was either napping with Beth or else indifferent as always to Blaine's presence. He left his bag in the car before treading the all too familiar path to the garden. Blaine let himself drink in his surroundings as he walked. The trees danced in the breeze alongside the path, birds sang merrily out to each other's the warm sun painted his own skin in shades of green and gold through the leaves. He felt the stress and heartache of the last few days melt away just by being here. Blaine couldn't imagine a time when this place would not offer him comfort.

Then he saw him, back bent as he tended to a zucchini vine. Sweat shone on his brow, his back muscles rippled with the strain of the position. Blaine paused, just taking in the sight. Never before had he seen someone so beautiful and alive. He knew in that moment with a certainty he had never felt before, he would do anything to ensure Kurt his happiness. He needed Kurt in his life more than he needed air, more than he needed acceptance, from his family or the world. If he just had Kurt, he would be all right. Any other doubt, pain, or heart flew away under this understanding; and the little distance between the two was suddenly too much. "Kurt!" he called over to him with joy and longing clear in his voice.

Kurt looked up startled yet pleased, before he straightened in a flash and ran closing the space. "Blaine! I didn't know... I didn't think... You're here." he sighed taking Blaine in his arms and into a sweet needy kiss. The kiss was short, but they did not part, only wound themselves around the other, drinking in the feeling of being wrapped in each other's arms as the spoke.

"I'm here... I couldn't stay away any longer, so much has happened and I needed you... but I had to wait... had to make sure we would he safe." Blaine babbled.

"How long?" Kurt asked.

"All summer... I have to be back home before my birthday. But by then I can move into my dorm. I will be back here every chance I can get."

"All summer?" Kurt asked again. "You don't have to leave again before then."

"Not as long as you want me," Blaine assured. He wanted to spout out his love for Kurt but held his tongue. While his first outburst to Kurt had ended well, he didn't want to chance pushing him away; not now that he had him. They swayed together to unheard music, dirty swirling up around their feet.

A hum of contentment preceded Kurt's words, "Always, I will always want you," he whispered. The moment lapped over them minutes stretching; time and responsibility forgotten. Blaine's fingers ran through Kurt's long, slightly sweat damp hair; Kurt's own fingers twirling ringlets in Blaine's. Blaine mapped out the dip and rise of Kurt's back with his free hand, still marveling that he _could. _

After a time uncountable, Kurt pulled back just enough to see Blaine's face, "Come on, I have something for you."

"But your work," Blaine protested, confused.

Kurt's laugh sent chills through Blaine, "There is not much to do right now, but wait for the plants to grow. Just a welcome distraction to bid the time until you came again."

Blaine could feel his heart beat pick up knowing that he meant so much to Kurt, that Kurt was waiting for him just as anxious to see him again. He brought their lips together, silently chanting I love you's as they kissed slow and deep. Kurt hair tickled his face another moment and then it was gone. Hands linked, Kurt lead them back down the path and to the barn. As Blaine followed Kurt up the ladder, he couldn't resist the urge to cup his ass through his jeans, eliciting a shocked yelp from Kurt followed by a glare. "Patience," Kurt scolded playfully.

Both safely in the loft, Kurt reached for a lumpy bundle of cloth, telling Blaine to sit down. Once seated, Kurt laid it across his lap. "This is your real graduation gift, something you can share with others. I hope you like it," Kurt told him bashfully sitting beside him.

Blaine pulled back the cloth to reveal the neck of a guitar. As more of the instrument was revealed, Blaine's breath caught and his eyes filled with tears. The entire front was painted in vibrant colors; an orange sun sent beams of light across and down the body kissing trees, grass, and flowers of every color. The silhouette of a lone bird in black flew across the yellows, reds, and oranges of the sun's rays. Intricate swirls and knots played along the sides of the guitar in a beautiful array of colors. Reverently, silently, Blaine turned the masterpiece over to reveal a large rainbow colored bird, wings spread, and head cocked to the side filling the entire length of the instrument. A vibrant blue green so much like Kurt's eyes filled the background. "Kurt..." Blaine finally choked out, unable to form into words just how much this truly beautiful gift meant to him. Kurt was giving him not just music and art, but a way to express himself. One look into Kurt's eyes and he knew he understood the magnitude of his gift to Blaine. Gently Kurt laid the instrument to the side before laying Blaine out on the smooth wooden floor of the loft. They didn't need such a mundane this as words to show just what they meant to each other, not anymore.

Later, sated and loose, still naked in the heat of the sun and sex warmed loft, Blaine sat tuning the guitar while Kurt lazily sketched. Their eyes kept catching each other's and contented smiles would flit across their faces. Finally, Kurt broke the comfortable silence. "So what has been happening? You said you needed me."

Blaine looked up from the strings to see Kurt's face contorted in worry. "Jeff and Nick know." He said, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

"What happened?" Kurt asked his face paling slightly.

Blaine shrugged, wanting so badly for it not to be as big of a deal as it really was. "They barged in my room and saw the hickeys. I guess I was tired of lying... So I told them. Jeff has been great; he's even helping cover for me so I can be here. But Nick... he says he won't tell but... I think I lost him forever." Here with Kurt, he didn't feel sadness and loss, at least not to the same degree now he was filled with indignant anger at his 'friend'. "But you know what, screw him. It's not like I am a different person than from before, and if he can't accept or at least tolerate this part of me... then screw him."

Kurt laid his sketch book aside and captured one of Blaine's hands in his. "I'm so sorry that he reacted that way. I wish I could tell you he reacted differently than most would, unfortunately he didn't. I have been lucky that I have found a group of people who, while they may not completely like that I am gay, they are still willing to be my friends. That really is rare."

"But I thought..." Blaine began, not knowing what exactly to say to this revelation. He always assumed that since Kurt's friends knew and they were still around that it didn't bother them.

"Puck is very accepting. Mercy, Tina and Mike don't really care one way or the other. There are two other girls who come around sometimes, Santana and Brittany; they are lovers. It's funny no one seems to bat an eye at them when they are here together. Rachel, well she has her own issues."

What do you mean," Blaine asked

Kurt sighed before continuing. "You can't let her know you know. She is very sensitive about it." He waited for Blaine's nod before continuing. "Rachel moved to McKinley our junior year. Before that, her family lived in Cleveland. She had it hard when she first moved because it was just her and her mom. Her dad... is like us. Only he got married and fathered Rachel trying to hide who he was from the world, while going out to pick up men at bars on the side. They caught him in a raid and he was in the paper. So not only did his wife and daughter find out, but so did his boss and their neighbors. Her mom left him and took Rachel with her. She hates him because of it, and by extension has a hard time accepting that we are not all out to deceive women and make fools out of them."

Blaine could only nod, he didn't really know Rachel, and she hadn't been back to the farm since they had met. However, one person he did know was glaringly missing from Kurt's list. He had more contact with Quinn than the rest and a feeling of dread crept back into his heart when he asked, "And Quinn?"

""Quinn..." Kurt began, playing with his fingers and not looking at Blaine. "Quinn is a very devout Catholic. I mean very devout, as in she fears for her mortal soul because she hasn't been able to attend mass in over a year. Frankly, she thinks we are an abomination. She was okay with me being gay until I acted on it."

"You mean me?" Blaine had to ask.

Kurt squeezed his hand. "Yes. After you left that first weekend you spent here, she started in on me about the fires of hell... until I pointed out that the bible also would damn her and her child. I may have also reminded her it was my sinning ass that saved her neck when almost everyone else would have turned their back on her. She may not like it; but she will never say anything to you about it. We have come to a sort of understanding."

Things began to fall into place, Quinn's coldness and distance suddenly made more sense to Blaine now. He didn't want to dwell on it though so he captured Kurt's lips and turned their minds to other matters.

Life at the farm became a welcome routine now stretching through the weeks. Blaine worked tirelessly by Kurt's side, but work was not all they did. When the normal chores of the farm were done, they would find ways to entertain themselves. Blaine still sat and watched Kurt create while he played ever better accompaniment on his guitar; but they did other things as well. The farm stretched for acres, which they began to explore together, Kurt telling stories all the time of the adventures he had had with his grandparents on this same land. They would swim in the creek or stock tank while enjoying the slick slide of wet skin against each other. Blaine's favorite though was when they would take a stack of records and the portable turntable out to a clearing and dance together just the two of them. He never had more fun than when they would bop along to faster tunes, but his favorite was having Kurt's arms wrapped tightly around him, as they would sway to a love ballad. It was such a 'normal' thing most couples could enjoy; but to Blaine it was almost sacred. More often than not each outing would include Kurt entering Blaine, making him fall apart and repair himself at his touch. Blaine never knew that sex could be so much. He had been getting himself off for years, but never with such intensity as with Kurt. Afterwards all he could do was lay there breathing erratic, heart pounding in his chest, skin flushed and sweaty, every nerve tingling, while holding in the three word that ached to leap from his lips. With Kurt looking down on him with a sweet happy smile on his face, Blaine had to fight himself to keep from professing his love to him. He was still determined though to hold his tongue until and only if Kurt said it first.

Puck returned to the farm the second week in June. It was nice having a friend back at the farm. After finding out just why Quinn was so distant, Blaine tried to spend as little time in her presence as necessary. So having another face smiling at him in his haven was greatly welcomed, even if it was accompanied by increasingly lewd comments. Not long after his arrival, Kurt left the farm to pick up more 'supplies', earning yet another comment from Puck but also leaving Blaine alone with the man as Kurt drove into town.

They sat on the porch strumming their guitars together Puck smiling at him, obviously impressed with his improvement. After some internal debate Blaine spoke, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure man," Puck shrugged.

Blaine steeled himself. "I know you don't have a problem with me and Kurt. Can I ask why...? I mean most people don't I just... I don't understand why you do... How can we change how people think of us?"

"Okay first of all, my name is Noah Puckerman. I'm a Jew. That's important so you should know that about me. My mom was born in Poland, so the war was not kind to her. She never has talked a lot about her time in the camps. One night there was a news report about a group of men picked up in one of those bogus raids, I was probably 14 I guess. Anyway, they showed video of the police loading them in the back of a truck and she just shook her head. She turns to me and says, 'Noah, I don't ever want to hear about you hurting anyone because of the way they are born, do you hear me.' She told me that there were fags in the camps with her, made them wear these pink triangles. Nobody there wanted anything to do with them. She said that a lot of these guys were the blond haired blue eyed perfect Nazi specimen, and that if they could be changed, the Nazi's would have done it. So the way I see it, you're a fag just like I'm a Jew; sure you could fuck around and marry a girl, just like I could go to Mass every Sunday, that doesn't change who we are though."

Blaine sat there staring dumbly at Puck for a few minutes not sure what to say. In the end, he just smiled at him, nodded, and said, "Thanks," before starting another song. Then Puck added, "Plus why should I care how you get your rocks off," and things seemed to get back to normal.

Puck only stayed for the weekend, promising to be back in a couple of weeks. It was a nice break for the boys, as he was more than willing to do the chores while he was there, always with a salacious wink thrown at them. Blaine was sad to see Puck go, not just due to the welcome break from work, but he was coming to consider Puck one of his best friends.

Late one afternoon, about a week after Puck left, found Kurt and Blaine once again in the loft. Kurt had been working on sketches while Blaine played, when he laid the book aside, and leveled Blaine with, an intense gaze. "Can we try something?" he asked.

Blaine stood and placed his guitar against one of the workbenches. "What did you have in mind?" he said mindful of the lustful tinge in his lover's eyes.

"I want to paint you." Kurt stated, walking over to Blaine and playing with the hem of his shirt. Blaine just raised an eyebrow with an unspoken question. "Not on canvas... it is something I have been thinking about. You won't be here forever... I mean you have to go off to school soon and I want something... I want something we make together... but art... something that could be around long after we are gone... to show something of what we had."

"What do you mean?" Blaine gulped at the intensity in Kurt's eyes.

"I want to paint each other all over, lay down some of my canvas fabric and... do what comes naturally." Kurt told him not breaking eye contact.

The thought made Blaine lick his lips in anticipation, just knowing that years from now something so special to him would still exist in some way. "O-okay," he stuttered before locking their lips.

Kurt laughed against the kiss, breaking it too soon. Slowly they undressed each other, a familiar activity. Kurt grabbed the paints and other supplies while Blaine laid the cloth out over the worn wooden floor. He was smoothing out the fabric one last time when he felt a cool tickle looping over his shoulder. Blaine looked over to see a red swirl over the cap of his shoulder. The paint was cool in the warm air of the loft as they stood facing each other adding more colors to each other's bodies. They had to work quickly, knowing the paint would soon begin drying. They took turns trailing think lines of paint over the back of each other's bodies. Blaine felt every nerve heightened at the feel of the cool paint running down his body where he could not see it. When it was his turn to paint Kurt, he traced each dip and curve of his muscles in a rainbow array of colors.

Their brushes laid aside, they turned to each other in all their technicolor glory. It was almost laughable as Blaine looked on Kurt covered head to toe with paint, but then his eyes were drawn to his paint free cock standing with interest as Kurt looked upon him. They seemed to be drawn to one another in that moment, paint squishing and mixing between them as they met in a lust-filled kiss. Hands ran down paint slick skin, streaking and smearing new colors in their wake. They forgot about the art they were trying to make and lost themselves in the slip slide of their skin together.

Soon Kurt was carefully wiping one hand free of paint before slicking it with Vaseline. Blaine lay on his front his kaleidoscopic dick pined against the cloth beneath as Kurt hurriedly but thoroughly prepared him. Open and ready for Kurt finally, Kurt nudged him to roll over. Blaine was not content with this position and as soon as Kurt had slicked himself up, Blaine sat up kissing him, before guiding Kurt to lie on his back. "Blaine?" Kurt asked before sucking in a breath when Blaine straddled his hips. Blaine placed his hands on either side of Kurt's head as Kurt held himself steadily at his entrance. In one movement, Blaine pierced himself on Kurt causing both of them to gasp at the sudden change. It was no longer such a foreign sensation for Blaine to be so filled by Kurt, but Kurt usually was careful and slowly entered him, not wanting to hurt him in anyway. Never before had he gone from open, empty, and wanting to filled so quickly. He had also never before taken control in such a way always more content to have Kurt lead them to their pleasure. Feeling full and powerful and so very much in love with Kurt he began to move on top of him.

The new position allowed Kurt to brush against that spot deep inside him that sent his mind reeling and his body ever closer to his release. Faster Blaine moved, soon joined by Kurt's own thrusts in time with his. Sweat beaded and rolled down their bodies further smearing the paint covering them. The closer Blaine got the more erratic his motions became; it was as if he was losing control if his own muscles of his own body. "Kurt..." He panted curls brushing his lovers cheeks as he strove to continue moving over him, his thighs protesting now at the continued movement. "I can't..."

Kurt seemed to understand and rolled them over, so Blaine was once again on his back. The momentary and sudden emptiness brought tears to Blaine's eyes. It didn't last long before with a harmonized moan, Kurt entered him again in one swift movement. Kurt's pace was unrelenting as he thrust over and over into Blaine. Their lips met but soon they were only panting in each other's mouths as they climbed higher and higher in their pleasure. Blaine was unsure what words were escaping his mouth as he felt himself tip closer to his release. Kurt either understood the nonsense he was babbling or just knew what Blaine needed, as his hand soon found Blaine's cock, still slick with paint. A few jerks of Kurt's hand in time with his thrust and pearly white streaks shot across the vibrant canvas that was their chests. Kurt's hand then fell as he once again braced himself as he thrust, once, twice, three times before coming deep within Blaine.

As they stilled, catching their breaths, their eyes met, taking in their paint smeared faces simultaneous giggles erupted for them, shaking and jarring their over-sensitive bodies with the movement. "That was the best... most inspired idea you have ever had." Blaine panted.

Kurt laughed again, still not moving from his position though his dick was quickly softening. "I think you were the one with the best idea... God having you over me like that, taking control... hottest damn thing ever." One more kiss and Kurt slipped free of Blaine, carefully maneuvered himself off the sheet and offered a hand to Blaine. They stood over the canvas almost mesmerized by the sight. Blaine was sure no one else who looked at the smeared rainbow of colors could know how if was created but to him it was unmistakable. He could see three distinct figures filling the cloth. He knew two were him, his front, and back, the other of Kurt writhing underneath him. Handprints surrounded the figures, the clearest things shown. The whole thing was surrounded by drops and splatters of paint most likely thrown from their bodies in exertion. Side by side, they stood there hand in hand looking at their lovemaking illustrated in psychedelic glory.

They quickly made their way down the ladder into the barn. After peeking out to ascertain the coast was clear, they ran naked to the tank laughing all the way. The paint washed away coloring the water around them, leaving them clean once more; Kurt fucked Blaine with the water lapping their thighs. They walked hands clasp back to the barn, laughing at the fact they had left their clothes in the loft. Blaine was filled with such contentment and joy that this was his life. One day he would confess to Kurt his undying love, he thought, but even without professions of devotion, it had been the best day of his life; and he would have concrete proof that it had indeed happened. Smiles lighting their faces, they let the setting sun caress their skin, utterly and completely happy. If only they had known that their carefree days were numbered; though neither would have changed the moment for anything.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine sat strumming his guitar, watching Kurt as he stretched and stapled their painting onto wooden frames. Kurt had cut the canvas into three large sections; each featuring a clear figure. A constant stream of talk flowed between the two as they worked; the atmosphere was happy and carefree. The loft was hot, the summer heat fully filling the space leading both shirtless and glistening with sweat. Blaine loved that they could just be like this, half dressed and sweating, but fully comfortable with themselves and each other. Kurt added the last staple to the final frame before propping it up beside the others. Blaine could resist temptation no longer; he laid his guitar aside and approached his boyfriend. He loved the feel of their skin sliding together and he snaked his arms around Kurt and let his chest brush his back.

"They are beautiful," he mumbled nipping a kiss to Kurt's neck causing him to moan with half a laugh.

"They are inspiring you I see," Kurt teased; turning around in Blaine's hold to better kiss him.

Blaine ran his hands up his muscled back before sliding them down to grip Kurt's waist. "_You _inspire me," he said against Kurt's lips causing both of them to giggle at the cheesiness of it. Blaine was just latching his lips back on Kurt's long slender neck when the sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside drifted up to them. Kurt pushed lightly on Blaine's chest with an exasperated sigh. Blaine groaned at the loss.

"That's probably Puck, we should at least greet him." Kurt told him, still not completely extracting himself from Blaine's grip.

Blaine shook his head, not wanting to see anyone else, not even Puck. "He knows his way around, I'm sure he will be fine."

"No Blaine, you know as well as I do that if we don't go out there, he will just come in here no matter what we are doing." Kurt told him finally moving out of Blaine's arms.

They joked with each other, laughing at the reaction Puck would likely have if he caught them in the act as they made their way down the ladder and to the barn door. Kurt was laughing a full and bright sound at the image of Puck cheering them like at a football game as he opened the door. Blaine was too busy trying to grab Kurt's waist as he yelled, "touchdown" to notice Kurt freeze and his laughter abruptly end. It wasn't until after he grabbed him, with no response that he looked up and noticed Puck was not their visitor.

In the driveway, a blue station wagon sat as an older woman extracted herself from behind the wheel. She was short and chubby with her hair perfectly styled in a flip. Her blue dress was worn but pressed to look neat. Her face was kind but worry-lines on her forehead that could not be ignored. Her eyes were locked on Kurt clearly taking in his appearance. "Kurt" she whispered the sound almost lost on the wind.

Blaine quickly released Kurt's waist and took in the ridged line of his back. "Carole?" Kurt questioned taking one tentative step forward. "How? What are you doing here?"

She worried with her black purse clutched in her hands. "I didn't know what to do... you said that if I needed to get a hold of you, I could write Quinn here, but it seemed so important so I... I didn't know what else to do..."

Blaine stood in the doorway as he watched Kurt slowly approach the woman. "What are you talking about?" Kurt asked.

"This came for you," she said taking a crisp white envelope from her purse. "I didn't know what to do; I thought it might be important."

She held the envelope out to Kurt who took it with shaking fingers. His eyes had barely flitted to the writing on the front before he was shoving it back into her surprised hands. "Take it back, if anyone asks you don't know where I am and you haven't seen me." Kurt choked out as he backed away from her.

"Kurt, this is the government you can't just ignore it, you don't even know what it says. Maybe they reconsidered." She said still holding the letter out to him pleadingly.

"Changed their minds?" Kurt almost yelled. "This is the draft board Carole, I doubt it says, 'alright we believe you now, you don't want to be a murderer so go enjoy your life.' It doesn't work that way. We both know what that is; it is my death sentence. I can't do it Carole! So you have to tell anyone who comes and asked that you don't know where I am."

Tears were pooling in the woman's eyes now. "I can't lie Kurt."

"Carole, if they find me it's either the army or prison, neither of which I think I can survive. Please if you love me, just say I ran off after graduation and you don't know where I am. I won't be here, so it won't be a lie." Kurt begged the woman.

Tears now fell down her face, "Kurt please, I can't lose you again not with Finn..."

Kurt closed the distance again taking her hands in his. "What about Finn?" he asked quickly.

"He got his papers, he leaves for Vietnam in two weeks," she whispers as if speaking softly would make it less real.

"I'm sorry Carole, I really am, but that," he said nodding to the envelope still clutched in one of her hands, "will not help. All it will do is put me there right along with him. At least he can fight back."

She nodded almost numbly as if the movement held little meaning before looking directly into Kurt's eyes. "You're right, of course your right. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have come. I won't say anything just...please don't disappear again, I can't lose you both, I can't worry about both of you all the time. It was okay when he was stationed in Virginia, but... I just can't Kurt."

"I'll write, but you can't come here again Carole. I won't be here." Kurt told her firmly.

She hugged him tightly; Blaine wanted to be there, wanted to be the one holding Kurt. He knew that his calm resolve had to be mostly a show; knew it was affecting him more than he was letting on. Plus, talk of Kurt not being here at the farm sent panic through his mind. He needed to talk to Kurt but felt cemented to the doorway of the barn, not able to move closer to comfort either of them. He missed the mumbled words that passed between the two before Carole slid back into the car. They both stood frozen as she finally drove away. Not until the dust was finally settling for her departure, did Kurt turn around tears now trickling down his cheeks.

"Blaine?" He whined a pleading look in his eyes. Blaine quickly unstuck himself and rushed to Kurt capturing him in his arms. They stood in the driveway, Kurt crying onto Blaine's bare shoulder, trembling, and clutching at his back as if he wanted to climb into him and hide. Blaine for his part gripped him so tightly his muscles ached with it, mumbling nonsense into his hair as he swayed them gently from side to side. He noticed the curtain in the window part for a moment before fluttering back into place. Blaine half-expected Quinn to come out and check on her clearly distraught friend, but she never emerged from the house.

An hour must have passed before Kurt's grip lessened and he began to push away from Blaine's body. "I just... I can't, you know I can't," he mumbled his bloodshot eyes finally meeting Blaine's.

"I know, but let's go inside to your room and we can talk about what you want to do." Blaine said, smoothing his hands down Kurt's back. With a nod, they made their way into the house and up to Kurt room, without meeting Quinn on the way. Once safely closed in Kurt's room and sitting together Indian style on his bed facing each other, Blaine asked the question he was dreading, "So... what are you going to do?"

Kurt played with his fingers speaking to them rather than Blaine, "I don't know, I don't think I can stay here, I don't think it is safe."

"Who was that woman?" Blaine said instead of what he really wanted to know, now afraid of what Kurt may say. He knew that he could not avoid the topic forever, knew he couldn't avoid it for long, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on it again... not yet.

"That was Carole Hudson; I think I told you about her... she was dad's girlfriend before... I stayed with her and her son Finn." Kurt said, still not meeting Blaine's eyes. He gave a deep sigh before lifting his head. "I have to leave Blaine and I don't know when or if it will ever be safe to come back. Anywhere I go... it won't be like this, no place else is truly safe for us. You know hippies may talk a lot about peace and love, but that still doesn't mean they are all okay with us, with what we have. I could find a commune or go to Canada, but I don't think we will find the kind of freedom we have here."

To Blaine this was starting to sound like a goodbye and he just couldn't have that, he couldn't let Kurt go, not like this. "We will find a way; we will find someplace where we can be ourselves. Let's just stop and think for a minute."

Kurt looked at Blaine with large sad eyes, "I don't know. I don't want to have to leave you, but I can't fathom a place where it will be like this, not in Ohio. You have school in the fall... you can just go following me across the country or out of it, no matter what I want."

Blaine could feel his heart breaking and couldn't stop the tears from welling in his eyes. "Do you... do you not want me to come with you?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"No honey, no it's not that. I can't let them ruin your life too, not like this. I want you to be safe and without your student exemption that won't happen." Kurt told him grabbing his hands in a fierce squeeze.

"I don't have to get a student exemption, they don't want me anyway. I can tell them I'm gay and..."

Kurt cut him off before he could finish. "No! Don't you understand, once people find out you can't take it back! Please promise me that you won't tell the draft board. It was a last resort for me and they didn't even believe me. Employers want to see your draft card, they will find out and you will never be hired. I wish it wasn't this way but it is, people find out you are gay and you are an instant pariah."

"I don't care about that Kurt!" Blaine yelled cutting him off. "I don't care if the entire world hates me, not anymore. But not everyone is like that, I would rather a few people like the real me than to live a lie. I would rather be with you, happy, than have to say goodbye to you."

Kurt looked at him at him despair emanating from his eyes. "I just, I don't want you to end up hating me for taking you away from everything you have ever loved or worked for. I couldn't stand that."

"I could never hate you Kurt," Blaine told him, hoping to convey all his feelings with that simple phrase. Now was not the time for expressions of love, it would seem desperate and not heartfelt.

"Let's just think about what we are going to do and worry about me later."

"I could ask Puck if he knows any places that will be safe to hide." Kurt said.

Blaine shook his head, "We don't know when he will be back. Shouldn't we leave sooner rather than later?"

"I can't leave Quinn here alone." Kurt looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"Why not? Surely she can take care of herself." Blaine said incredulously.

Kurt shook his head this time, "It's not her that I am worried about, it's the farm. Yes, technically, she owns it, but this is my home, those are my animals, I can't just leave them untended. Do you know the pain the cows and goats will go through if they are not milked at least once a day; if they are not gradually weaned from milking? Do you honestly think that she will suddenly take an interest in how this farm runs? All those crops I have worked so hard tending will just be left to rot and the animals. I can't..." Kurt's voice broke as his tears began again in earnest. "I can't just let the last year I have spent back here go to waste. It has to have meant something."

"Oh Kurt," Blaine sighed as he took him into his arms. "I didn't even think... I just want you safe and happy. Alright, so we will wait for Puck, see if he knows of any friendly communes close, or anywhere we can go." Blaine took a deep breath before continuing having to force the words out of himself. "If I have to I will come back here when school starts... I just don't want to lose you. You are the first great thing that has ever happened to me."

"You won't lose me... I... I feel the same." Kurt told him kissing him gently, but doing little to ease Blaine's fears. "I just... It will be different out there; I need you to understand that... just because I won't be able to show you as freely, that doesn't mean anything has change... Not how I feel."

How do you feel? Blaine wondered, but gave the thought no voice. Instead, he kissed Kurt, trying to convey everything he felt in that single intense brush of lips.

Supper passed in each other's arms, Blaine having no appetite after the events of the afternoon. Kurt let the time pass without mentioning it, so Blaine assumed he felt the same way. They lay entwined together, silently letting their minds race. Blaine wished he had thought to ask Puck more about the places he went when not at the farm. He couldn't have imagined a time when this farm would not be a safe haven for them though. He wondered if he could be accepted as a late admission in a college close to where Kurt ended up. Would his parents pay for a college if it was across the country, would they pay if it was in Canada? Would they even notice if he disappeared, defied Kurt's wish for his assured safety and just stay wherever he was, would they notice? Would they care?

As they light faded from the room, Kurt pulled Blaine from his increasingly depressing and desperate thoughts. "Blaine?" he asked looking up from where his head rested on Blaine chest. "I... I need..."

"What? What do you need?" Blaine prompted his voice hoarse from disuse.

"I don't know how long we have here... And I don't know when it will be safe for us again. I mean we have to be ready to leave tomorrow if that is when Pick gets here." Kurt rambled while Blaine nodded along, feeling Kurt's desperation, but still not understanding what he was asking for. "I just, I need... I want you to take care of me."

Blaine stroked his cheek gently, "Of course I will take care of you; just tell me what you need me to do."

A blush colored and warmed his cheek in Blaine's hand. "So much is out of my control right now and I am having a hard time trusting the world, but I trust you, Blaine. I always trust you. I need... I need you to be in control tonight. I need to not feel like the weight of the world is falling on top of me." Blaine was still unsure what Kurt was asking of him. He wanted to be whatever Kurt needed in this moment. His confusing must have shown because Kurt sat up and looked him square in the eye before saying, "Make love to me. I need you to make love to me."

Blaine's breathe caught at the request. All they times they had had sex; it was always Kurt inside him. He liked it; it was amazing in fact. He had never even thought... but now that he did, now that the idea was there; he longed to know what it felt like, he wanted to show Kurt just how amazing he made him feel. He slowly nodded, trying desperately to swallow with his throat suddenly dry. He wanted to so much, but he was nervous. His hand shook as he reached for Kurt's face wanting to pull him down into a kiss; but just as his hand landed on that smooth cheek, Kurt's hand enclosed it, holding it steady.

"Hey, don't be nervous, it's just me." He said softly holding Blaine's gaze.

Blaine nodded, a wetted his lips before he spoke, "I just don't want to screw this up."

"You won't, I trust you." Kurt voice was so steady and firm Blaine couldn't help but believe him. However, he didn't have much time to think before Kurt's lips were on his hungry and desperate, crying out to be consumed by Blaine; it was all the encouragement Blaine needed. With only the thought of taking care of Kurt in his mind, Blaine let himself take control of the kiss. A small gasp from Kurt filled the small space between their tongues as Blaine rolled them over pinning Kurt to the bed under his weight. Blaine allowed himself the indulgence of exploring every inch of Kurt's torso with licks and nips on the pale expanse of skin. He sucked marks down the column of his neck, on his collarbone, his ribs, and his stomach; before allowing himself a moment to admire his work. The contrast between Kurt's milky skin and the purpling of the hickeys sent a new flood of desire through him.

Blaine then looked up into Kurt's face; he was looking up at him, breath labored and in even, his face flushed with desire, and his eyes wide and dark but glistening with want. He kept his eyes trained on Kurt as he slid his hand down to the rough fabric of his jeans palming the obvious bulge there. Kurt's head was thrown back at the touch as a low wanton moan fell from his now parted lips which Blaine quickly lowered his head to lick into. Kurt took a moment to respond to the kiss but when he did it was with such enthusiasm it spurred Blaine on. Sucking on Kurt's bottom lip, Blaine unbuttoned his jeans with one hand only to be greeted immediately with the coarse tickle of what he knew was almost auburn pubic hair. He curled his fingers in them enjoying the texture for a moment before grabbing Kurt's length in his hand.

Kurt threw his head back with a gasp at the contact breaking the kiss. Blaine took the opportunity to sit up, take in Kurt's body before beginning to remove his pants. Once Kurt was fully naked, laid out on the bed one knee up its foot placed firmly on the bed, the other leg splayed to the side, on full display for Blaine's eyes only. Blaine stood next to the bed, fully aware of Kurt's eyes on him as the chucked his jeans off exposing himself and finally releasing his aching cock. His breath caught in a chuckle as Kurt made grabby hands at him, clearly not happy with the new distance between them.

Blaine thought back to the first time and wanted to explore Kurt just as fully as he had, but Kurt beautiful dick was calling to him. He laid between Kurt's legs before sinking his mouth over the tip tasting the intense flavor of him. Kurt's hands flailed above him before finding purchase in Blaine's curls pulling at them causing Blaine to moan deeply. Kurt's hips shot up at the sensation and Blaine's mouth was now unexpectedly full of Kurt. He heard mumbled apologies overhead but ignored them as he pulled back before sinking down as far as he could. The almost burn of Kurt hitting the back of his throat, of having to suppress his gag reflex was thrilling and Blaine worked to press his limits. He was getting Kurt deeper and deeper before he felt something weakly batting the hand on Kurt's hips. Blaine pulled up so only the tip still breeched his lips and looked over to see the tub of Vaseline know lying beside his hand. A high "please" resolved any doubt that this was what Kurt wanted, what he yearned for. With one final suck, Blaine released Kurt's cock and opened the tub.

As Blaine slicked his fingers, Kurt made to turn over. "No," Blaine stilled him with his one clean hand, "I want to do it like this."

Kurt nodded, his face flush clearly trying to catch his breath. Blaine grabbed a pillow and urged it one handed under Kurt's hips. Blaine sunk his mouth back over Kurt; a move that was clearly unexpected if the gasp from above was any indication. He wanted to look, but he the hunger for Kurt's taste on his tongue was still too much, so as he sucked gently on Kurt's dick, he circled his finger lightly over his Puckered hole. He could feel Kurt tense a moment before he breathed out another "please". Pushing his index finger slowly inside Kurt was unlike anything he had ever imagined. The tight heat and easy give of the muscles was almost overwhelming even around his finger. A new wave of desire coursed through Blaine at the almost too easy give of Kurt's ass to Blaine. Kurt wanted this, wanted him like this and his body's response was the last indicator Blaine needed. He knew that the more he wanted it the easier it was for Kurt to open him up, to prepare him. Blaine's finger soon was sliding in and out with little resistance.

Blaine pulled back no longer able to resist the pull to see what he was doing to Kurt. He watched as he slid a second finger into Kurt alongside the first. The way his body gripped them, while almost pulling them inside was almost too much to watch and Blaine had to close his eyes to center himself. Repeating what he had felt Kurt do to him so many times, he began to stretch and scissor his fingers opening him more and more. As he pulled his fingers out ready to add a third, Blaine's fingers brushed up against a spongy mass deep within Kurt. Almost immediately Kurt's back arched, his head threw back and a moan rent the air around them. Blaine sat mesmerized at Kurt's response, knowing exactly what he had felt. His third finger had barely breeched the hole when Kurt began panting, "Now... please... now."

Blaine looked up to Kurt's face; his mouth was hanging open on a silent moan, his chest heaving with want and his eyes steady on Blaine. "Blaine please..." he said sounding almost sure that Blaine could even think of denying him.

Blaine hovered over him looking in his eyes, not blinking as he said, "I would do anything in this world for you," before kissing him long and deep. Kurt wrapped his legs around Blaine's waist bringing his cock closer to his ready hole. Blaine needed no more encouragement though and gripped himself in one Vaseline covered hand slicking it and guiding himself to where the tip was just against Kurt. Kurt pulled back from the kiss and with their eyes locked; Blaine slowly began to push in.

The heat surrounding him was almost too much combined with the tight hold Kurt's muscles clenched around him. Blaine resisted the urge to close his eyes though not wanting to break their gaze. He slowly worked his shaft inch by inched deeper into Kurt, until his balls brushed lightly at his ass. He froze there panting taking in Kurt's face his eyes now closed as his breath rose his chest in an uneven rhythm. "You okay?" he asked trying to keep his voice steady while denying his body the ability to just move.

Kurt's eyes flew open at his voice, tears sparkling in the corners. He gulped in a breath before saying, "it's so much... you're so big and... I have never felt so full. It's amazing; we just fit. I love it the other way but... Why didn't you tell me?"

Blaine chuckled; sending vibrations through his body making his dick vibrate with it, both men moaned at the movement. "I... I tried to tell you. It's perfect... We're perfect."

Kurt nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, "god, move, please move."

It was as if something snapped with in him at the words. He no longer had to hold himself back, his instincts took over, and he pulled back only to allow himself to surge forward once more. He could feel himself chasing his release from the first movement, hips snapping back and forward reveling in the sensations surrounding him. He could not let himself lose himself in the feel though, not without ensuring Kurt was feeling half as much as he was. He kept his eyes on Kurt's face, now contorted in ecstasy. Kurt's movements soon joined his, meeting each thrust. Soon his legs released themselves from their vice hold on his waist. Blaine took advantage and threw one leg over his shoulder so he could thrust even deeper. A keening wail filled the room at the change from Kurt as he hands flailed trying to find something to grip, finally finding purchase in his own hair.

Blaine didn't know how much longer he could hold his orgasm back everything was just so much and the sight of Kurt beneath him writhing in pleasure was enough to almost send him over the edge. He could hear Kurt moaning low, snippets of words reaching him but none identifiable. He was just about to reach between them to pump Kurt's cock with his movement when Kurt clamped down hard on his dick sending him over the edge. As he filled Kurt, he was faintly aware of the sensation of something warm and wet hitting his stomach. As he rocked through the aftershocks he looked down to see Kurt's cum painting their bodies in streaks of white. Kurt lay spent, sprawled loose on the bed, save for the one leg Blaine still had gripped around the ankle, trying to catch his breath with his eyes gently closed.

Blaine's body finally stilled and he slowly lowered Kurt's leg, but still didn't pull out. Kurt eyes slowly opened, and a tired smile filled his lips. "I won't give you up," he mumbled sleepily trying to caress Blaine's thigh but his hand falling short only making vague swatting motions towards it.

Blaine pulled out, both hissing at the movement in their sated over sensitivity. "Never." Blaine promised before taking Kurt in his arms and allowing them to drift to sleep.

Puck didn't return the next day, though that afternoon they packed up most of Kurt's art supplies into crates and some clothes in a bag each, ready to throw into Blaine's car at a moment's notice. Quinn had seemed put out at Kurt's concerns at lunch when they had told her about waiting for Puck before leaving.

Puck didn't show up the day after, or the day after that either. Blaine was getting antsy; feeling the world closing in on their sanctuary with each passing day. He couldn't help but feel they were pushing their luck the longer they waited. Kurt and Blaine clung to each other more each day, not sure when would be their last they would be assured this freedom with each other. More time was spent naked one inside the other, than ever before. They never knew when could be their last time. Never knew once they left, when they could find the privacy to be together, so they fucked until their bodies ached, but ignored the ache and fucked some more while they still could.

A week passed as Puck was still not there. Blaine tried to plead with Quinn at least to learn to take care of the animals and crops so they could get Kurt somewhere safe. She excused herself saying she had an infant to care for trying to urge them to sell the livestock. Kurt left the room soon followed by Blaine when he saw the tears in his eyes.

Nine days after Carole Hudson appeared at the farm, the familiar sound of a vehicle making its way up the gravel driveway met their sex-sated ears in the loft. They quickly threw clothes on; jeans for Blaine, the bright red sarong for Kurt, before making their way down the ladder hoping to meet Puck. Blaine pushed the door open to the barn, but the old work truck was not there. The old station wagon was back. He was just reaching out to stay Kurt where he was when a large man exited the car spotting both of them.

Blaine turned to see Kurt, face sickly pale, freeze behind him staring at the man stalking towards them. "Finn, what are you doing here?" He said voice high and breathless with fear.

The man remained silent as he strode towards them. Blaine took in his appearance; he was extremely tall, his hair closely cropped to his head, fitting with the uniform on his body. He was clearly a Marine and he did not look happy. His face was scrunched up in a scowl as he continued to close the space. Blaine's mind finally put it together. This was Finn, Kurt's almost stepbrother.

As Finn stopped in front of Kurt, ignoring Blaine's presence completely he pulled a now opened envelope out of his pocket. "What is this?" he practically growled at Kurt.

"I have no idea, why don't you tell me?" Kurt replied in a high voice though his face wore a mask of cool indifference.

"Says here that you are to report for induction tomorrow. But you are planning to run away like a pansy ass coward aren't you?" Finn roared thrusting the paper in Kurt's hand, a look of disgust on his face.

Kurt's whole demeanor changed at the words; no longer was he cowering back from the imposing figure before him, his spine straightened and he held himself determined at his full height. "Not wanting to be a murderer does not make me a coward. The world is not all black and white; it is not just us against them. I don't know when you are going to see that." His voice was full of cool resolve again.

"Your idealism was fine in high school Kurt, but you are a man now and your country needs you. I won't allow you to shirk your responsibility." Finn yelled back.

"This is not your concern Finn, what I do is no concern of yours." Blaine watched as Kurt made to turn around and walk back into the barn. Finn's words froze him in his spot.

"It is when you bring my mother into it. Do you know she didn't even tell me? I found that in her bills. If they come looking for you they will go to her first. I don't need you messing with my family because you can't man up and do what is right!"

"I'm trying to do what is right," Kurt turned to him, "and there was a time when you considered me family too. Do you have any idea what your enlisting has done to your mother? Do you think the police coming to question my whereabouts is anything compared to worrying if you are going to come back home alive does to her? Maybe you should have thought of her before you put that damned uniform on."

"I was thinking of her, I was thinking of her and my country, trying to protect it. All you are thinking of is yourself." Finn shot back, a nerve clearly hit by Kurt's remark.

Kurt sighed, a deep weary sound. "We will just have to agree to disagree. There is nothing you can do, you can't force me..."

"I can and I will," Finn said, voice calm once more. "I know who to call, I can bring them right here to this farm, if you leave I can have them trail that car," he said pointing to Blaine's Mustang that sat in the driveway. "I have the license plate number written down. I won't hesitate to do it."

Kurt's face lost what little color it had regained, he glanced over at Blaine worry clear on his face. Blaine knew in that moment that even faced with prison and the draft, Kurt was worrying about him first. He wanted to snatch him away from this foe that now stood in the middle of their safe haven and whisk Kurt to safety. A minute shake of Kurt's head stilled any motion though. So Blaine stood there to watch how this would play out, for the moment anyway.

"What do you want me to do?" Kurt asked defeated.

"You are to report for induction in Columbus, and I am not letting you out of my sight until then." Finn said, folding his arms in front of his chest. Kurt stood there for a moment, Blaine wanted to scream out that he couldn't go, but knew it would do no good. If Kurt made his mind up about something, there was no changing it. He watched as Kurt's shoulders sagged in defeat.

He started towards the house. "Where do you think you are going?" Finn yelled anger clear in his voice.

Kurt turned calmly to him, "To put some clothes on and grab my wallet. I would be safe to assume, that I don't need to pack, am I correct." He didn't wait for an answer just turned and stalked towards the house. Blaine followed feeling like a lost puppy. This couldn't be happening; Kurt couldn't be just giving in like this. He followed Kurt into his room, both still silent.

As Kurt's hand reached for the knot of his sarong, the lump in Blaine's throat broke enough to allow him to speak. "You can't go," he said quietly.

Kurt turned to him, and Blaine closed the space between them when he saw tears in his eyes. "I don't have a choice; I can't risk them getting you too. I don't know what they would do if they found out you helped me runaway. I can't risk you, I won't risk you."

"Kurt, you can't worry about me, you need to worry about yourself for once. Let me worry about you; let me take care of you. We will think of something." Blaine spoke feeling more desperate than he thought possible.

Kurt pushed himself away, turning his back on Blaine. "No matter what happens, I am going to be away for a long time. Either I will be in prison or waiting for my death in the jungle. I can't expect you to wait for me, not like this."

"What are you saying?" Blaine's heart was pounding in his chest. He didn't like the broken way Kurt sounded or the words he was saying. Blaine wished desperately that this were a misunderstanding.

"I'm saying, you are free of me. It may be hard, but I am sure you will find someone else." Kurt's voice held little emotion as he grabbed a pair of jeans from a drawer.

"I don't want anyone else. God Kurt! I love you damn it; I only want you! We don't know what will happen but I would wait forever for you." Blaine's said grabbing at Kurt's shoulders trying to make him turn around, to look at him.

"Please Blaine don't make this harder than it is." Kurt pleaded, still not turning to face Blaine. Having enough, Blaine moved in front of him, holding Kurt in place as he ducked his head to catch Kurt's eyes. Tears trickled down his face, matching those fighting to fall from Blaine's own eyes.

"I love you; nothing is going to make you breaking up with me easier. I will fight for you Kurt; I won't let you toss away what we have that easily." Blaine said, lifting Kurt's chin so they were looking at each other properly.

"I can't fight Blaine, they expect to put a gun in my hand and... I can't. They are going to put me in a barrack with a group of guys, training to fight, to kill and if they find out I'm a fag... I'm dead. If they put me in prison and any one finds out... I'm dead. I don't see this ending well no matter what. I just... I can't know you are here waiting for someone to come tell you that I'm never coming home. I can't..." Kurt tried once more to turn away as his tears fell with renewed vigor.

Blaine refused to let him turn away. He stole a kiss, happy when Kurt returned it immediately. "We just have to have hope. Isn't that all that we really have in the world sometimes. We have to hope; hope that one day the world we will better, hope that we can make it through, hope that the things, the people we love won't be taken away from us, hope that tomorrow will be better. You give me the strength to hope Kurt; I want to be that strength for you too. I love you so much, I'm not just saying it because you are about to walk out that door; I should have been saying it for a long time, but I was scared. I was scared of losing you, of scaring you off with feelings you don't share. But right now I don't have time to be scared about that, you're already trying to lose me and I can't let that happen without you knowing how I feel. Please don't give up on us."

Blaine's heart beat out an erratic rhythm as he waited for Kurt to answer. Fear and dread were mingling in his stomach, almost tramping out the flicker of hope that usually resided there. Slowly, Kurt nodded a small joyless smile on his face. "You know just because I was trying to set you free doesn't mean I was giving up. I wanted freedom for you, not myself. There will be no one else for me."

"Kurt?" Blaine squeaked out, not knowing what to say, not daring to think what he could possibly mean.

"I love you too, Blaine. I never said before... I guess because I was scared, afraid that it wasn't the same for you." Kurt's body suddenly began trembling and Blaine caught him in his arms.

"Blaine, I am so scared. It wasn't supposed to happen this way; it wasn't supposed to end like this."

Blaine lowered them to sit on the bed. "Hey, who said this is the end. It's not the end of us; I don't care what happens this can't be the end of us. I will be waiting for you, whether you want me to or not. Your only job is to come back home to me." Kurt sobbed against Blaine's chest where he collapsed against him. Blaine ran his hands through Kurt's long hair, letting the soft brush sooth them both. After Kurt's sobs died down Blaine asked, "what do you want to do?"

"I don't think I have much choice, I can't fight Finn,"

"I can." Blaine interrupted.

"I still don't think violence is the answer," Kurt laughed. "I guess I just go, and hope for the best. I will do what I can to come home to you, the quicker the better." Blaine nodded before sneaking another kiss. "I'll write as soon as I know something. Can you stay here at least until Puck comes back?"

"I will stay here as long as I can, hopefully until you get back and this is all behind us." Blaine said squeezing his hand.

Blaine helped Kurt dress, it was the most solemn time they had ever spent together. Once fully dressed, his wallet in his pocket, Kurt turned towards Blaine once again. "I love you, I love you, and I love you. I would love to say it for all the times I should have, but there's not the time." Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine and he knew it was a goodbye. It was a goodbye neither wanted, but it was out of his control. Blaine just had to hope there would be a hello soon to make up for the ache in his heart.

Finn looked ready to storm into the house when they finally made it outside a good hour after entering. The only thing that stopped him was Quinn sitting stone-faced on the porch, holding baby Beth. "I don't think I have ever hated you more Finn Hudson," she said before taking Kurt into her arms. Blaine couldn't hear what she whispered to Kurt, but saw the tears in both their eyes. Blaine had to suppress his again as soon as Kurt took Beth gingerly in his arms, placing kisses on her face and hair, whispering words of love softly to her. He could see the reluctance on his face as he handed her back to her mother.

Blaine saw Kurt shoot Finn a defiant look before moving to hug Blaine one last time. "I love you." Kurt whispered in his ear. Blaine squeezed back tightly, adding his own "I love you" before reluctantly releasing him. He longed to reach out and take Kurt in his arms again and never let go, but knew it would do no good. He watched as Kurt climbed in the station wagon, hand held to the window as if longing for one final touch.

As the car turned away, he saw Kurt turned in his seat, tears making their way down his cheek. One final wave of his hand and he was disappearing from sight. Blaine collapsed in the dirty farmyard, no longer having the strength to hold himself together. Huge body aching sobs wracked his body, feeling his heart ache as it tried to reach out for Kurt. His head swam and his stomach turned, he felt disoriented in this new world without Kurt beside him. Just when he felt like he might just fly away without Kurt anchoring him to this world, he felt an arm wrap gently around his shoulder as two bodies, one large the other tiny pressed against him. He vaguely registered a small hand batting at his face, squeezing his nose as he let himself cry. He didn't even notice himself chanting, "I love him," over and over again. Nor did he hear Quinn respond, "I know," with the same assuredness.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine couldn't remember how he made it up to Kurt's room, be he woke up well before the sun, enveloped in the scent of Kurt. He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell; fresh turned soil hinted within in the main scent of the cucumber and mint soap Kurt made, tinged with a deep musky smell that lingered after a long day of work, or more likely the exertion of making Blaine come undone. Still in the haze between sleep and wakefulness, Blaine reached over for Kurt confused to why they were not wrapped around each other like normal. However, Blaine's hand found nothing but the smooth cold sheets beside him. All at once, the events of the previous day hit him and his breath hitched at the realization. Kurt was gone.

Reluctantly, Blaine opened his eyes. In the faint light of the room, nothing seemed changed, but the space felt lifeless and cold. His eyes burned when he spotted the bright red sarong hanging over the end of the mattress in the same place it landed when they discarded it. Kurt was really gone, and who knew when or if he would be coming back. Blaine scrubbed his hands down his face, feeling emptier than he had ever known he could. He wanted nothing more than to languish away in this bed feeling the anguish Kurt's absence left him with; but knowing Kurt was counting on him made him roll out of bed. He had work to do.

Blaine meticulously made his way through the morning chores, letting Kurt's shadow guide him through the tasks they had shared since that first weekend. He milked, collected, and fed; he baked, cooked, and ate; he weeded, watered, and harvested. All this he did with no joy, just the simple knowledge that it must be done. Before heading back to the house he made the long trek down to the mailbox, knowing that it was too soon to have heard anything from Kurt, but needing to try just the same. He washed mechanically, barely allowing himself to take in the smell of the soap as he worked it into a lather. As he stepped out of the shower, he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. If Kurt were here, they would eat before heading to the loft. Without Kurt though, what was Blaine to do there? Kurt was not there to watch and entertain as he made beautiful works of art. Kurt was not there to pass the hours in riveting conversations about the most important and the most trivial of matters. Not knowing what to do Blaine headed downstairs.

Quinn's sad eyes and concerned face did nothing for Blaine but make him want to succumb to the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him. He knew that if he started crying now he wouldn't stop until he heard from Kurt again. That was truly the worst part, not only Kurt's absence but also the uncertainty of the situation. Not knowing what was happening was killing Blaine. Seeing Quinn look at him, properly look at him the first time in months with so much pity in her eyes drove Blaine out of the house. He just meant to hurriedly run into the loft to retrieve his guitar, but once there his eyes fell on their paintings, so recently finished, leaning against the workbench. Blaine couldn't pull himself away. For hours, he sat staring at the images he knew were them in one of their happiest, freest moment, his guitar laid silently across his lap. He didn't emerge from the loft until the next morning his back sore from sleeping fitfully on the hard wooden floor.

The next week was spent in the same manner, though gradually Blaine began adding his own sound track. Staring at the last painting; the one that Blaine knew was Kurt, he played to him. Mostly love songs, their melody slowed tinged with longing filled the space until Blaine's fingers began to stumble and his voice shake with the tears he didn't let fall. Then silence would fall over the loft and Blaine would let his mind wander and wonder what Kurt was doing. He had still heard nothing from him since his departure. During such a silence, a full week after the last time Blaine had seen Kurt's tear streaked face, the sound of gravel crunching under tires drifted up to the loft. It was a sound that now filled Blaine with dread.

He sat frozen, staring still at the paintings, his mind racing to who it could be this time? Jeff with Nick in tow wanting to tell him just how sick they thought he was. His father fully aware of whom and what he was ready to toss him out. Carole to inform them of Kurt's incarceration or untimely death. Different images and scenarios played through his mind. He was so caught within his own brain he missed the first call out from the driveway. The creaking of the barn door pulled him from his thoughts and he heard an excited voice call out, "Kurt!"

Blaine remained silent anger and hurt vying for his attention. Puck called out again closer now. "Guys whatever you are doing, put it away I have a lot to tell you." Blaine looked over slowly, just in time to see Pucks head pop over the floor of the loft. He saw his expression shift from salacious to confused, when he spotted only Blaine there. "Blaine where's Kurt?" he asked looking around the space as he pulled himself off the ladder, as if Kurt could be hiding there unseen.

"Gone." Blaine said flatly.

Puck ran his hand through his long hair, eyeing Blaine with even more confusion, "What do you mean gone?"

Tears prickled at Blaine's eyes unbidden, he squeezed his fists until his knuckles ached, willing them away. "Where were you, we expected you over a week ago," Blaine said instead of answering.

"Something big came up, then something else. That's what I wanted to talk to you two about. Where is he?" Puck said, once again stupidly sweeping his eyes around the place. His eyes caught in the boxes of supplies still packed and ready to go, they widened, and he looked at Blaine worry clearly written on his face now. "Blaine?"

Blaine unfurled himself from his position on the floor. "We waited for you! We needed you here and you never came and now he's gone!" Blaine launched himself at Puck, anger taking over. His right fist connected soundly with Puck's jaw, splitting his knuckles on impact making them both cry out in pain. That didn't stop Blaine, he continued hurling punches at any part of Puck he could reach. Puck for his own part covered his head and let the hits fall against his arms, shouting out in surprise as he backed against the wall next to the ladder. It wasn't long before Blaine's hits became weaker and Puck was finally able to catch his fist stilling his movement.

Blaine stood there panting, seeing the hurt and confusion of Pucks face. He knew that it wasn't his fault; he couldn't have known what his delay would mean. Blaine just wanted someone to blame, but he knew that Puck cared, probably more than most. His anger gone, Blaine collapsed against Puck in tears once more. They stood there while aching sobs wreaked Blaine's body once more, Puck awkwardly patting his back, eyes searching the area for some clue as to what had happened while he was away. When Blaine calmed down to merely hitched breaths Puck tried again.

"Blaine, man, you have to tell me what happened, please before I wig out."

With stilted words and added tears Blaine told him everything, from Carole's arrival to Finn's, to Kurt's leaving the farm. Puck silently listened, his body and face growing tenser the more Blaine talked. "Son of a bitch! God damned son of a bitch! If I ever get my hands on him I swear I will kill him."

"Good luck with that," Blaine said darkly, "he's all the way in Vietnam by now."

This made Puck stop his frantic pacing. "What?" he asked.

"Finn was being sent to 'Nam, his mom said."

"Fuck!" Puck sat down, grabbing his hair in fists. "Damn, he was my best friend before you know. The last year, it's been Kurt, but before that, Finn and I were tight. Now... now he has betrayed Kurt and is off about to get himself killed."

"I can still hate him, right?" Blaine asked, only half joking.

Puck looked at him, compassion clear in his expression, "I think you have every right."

Puck was able to coax Blaine out of the loft, instructing him to go wait in the house. Blaine heard the truck drive off again. Quinn was waiting in the kitchen, Beth on her hip a pot of black-eyed peas on the stove. "You finally decided to join me for supper I see."

Blaine nodded, their conversation was polite but stilted until Puck returned almost an hour later, two six pack of beer swinging from his hands. They ate under Quinn's insistence, before Puck led him to the clearing. He laid out palettes for the two of them and lit a fire while Blaine watched sipping on his first beer. He hated the taste, but the promised numbness kept him from putting it aside. Puck talked about music, trying to distract Blaine as they drank. He didn't really like the way his head began to feel light or his mind became loopy, but it was taking the weight off of him that had been pressing in on him with Kurt gone. He let the apathy of alcohol wash over him until he drifted off to sleep.

The headache the next morning did nothing but make Blaine fell worse than he had all week, something he thought was impossible. He didn't even have the work to distract him from the fact that Kurt was not there. Puck insisted on doing the chores alone, but when he discovered Blaine curled on Kurt bed when he came in from the fields, crying into the sheets, he knew it was a bad idea. From that day on, they worked together. It was not the same as working side by side with Kurt, but it helped ease the loneliness. Instead of retreating to the loft alone, Blaine would sit on the porch most days with Puck picking out tunes together. Puck helped Blaine hang the three paintings in Kurt's room and didn't press for answers when Blaine refused to explain what they were. It was a kind of torture sleeping again in Kurt's bed, but Blaine couldn't bring himself to leave the space again. While it hurt to be surrounded by Kurt and not be able to be with him, the thought of distancing himself from any reminder hurt more. Blaine had to cling to any shred of Kurt he could.

Weeks passed with no word from Kurt, and Blaine began to panic. Each day the empty mailbox stood there like an open wound turning Blaine's stomach with dread. What if Kurt had changed his mind, was still determined to set Blaine free? What if his fears had come true and he died bleeding in some barrack or prison cell? What if he told Finn about them, trying to get him to understand, trusting him like the brother he was meant to be; and in return, Finn beat him until his last breath escaped his body? Weeks passed and unbidden images barraged Blaine's mind to the point he thought he would truly go mad as he lay in bed surrounded by everything Kurt.

During the day, Puck tried to distract him with any conversation he could think of. Blaine willingly took it, latching onto whatever subject came up. It was one day a week after Puck's reappearance that Blaine finally learned the details of his delay. They were sitting on the porch picking out a new melody together when Puck explained, "When I got to the commune in New Hampshire on my way back here, there was a message waiting for me from this guy I had sold to in New York wanting to meet with me. I figured I still had a few of Kurt's pieces, and the guy had paid top notch before, so it was probably worth my while to see what he wanted. Now this guy isn't my typical hippie client, naw, he lives in this swank apartment in the Village, working for some big wig company or another. No, he ain't no hippie, I was selling paintings one day in Central Park when he happened by, liked Kurt's work and bought a couple of pieces. Paid three times what I normally get. He wanted to know how to get a hold of me so I told him about the commune, they have a phone there, I usually make it out there every few weeks, told him it was the best way to catch me. I guess he did."

Blaine wasn't sure where this story was going, but he was used to the rambling way Puck had started talking to him. He nodded along, not ready to add anything so Puck continued. "Anyway, I show up at his place and he says he's got this friend owns a gallery and really likes Kurt's stuff and wants to meet with me as his 'representative'. Guy even put me up in his place while we waited to set up a meeting with the guy. Apparently owning a gallery and having a high paying job means that you are busy, cause it was a few days before I got the meet the man. Essentially, he liked what Kurt does and wanted to set up a showing in his place. That is one thing that I wanted to talk to him about when I got back. Soon I guess I'll have to go into towns and call the guy, tell him what's happened."

"We don't even really know what's happened yet." Blaine chocked out trying to reign in his emotions.

Puck nodded sadly, "yeah, I know man." He then perked up, flicking his long hair behind him, "but that wasn't all I wanted to tell you. In everything it didn't seem so important, but man this is big, the hugest!"

"Okay, so what is it?" Blaine prompted Puck to fill the silence once more, trying to turn his thoughts away from the myriad of fates that could have befallen Kurt in the last two weeks of silence.

"So, you know I told you that guy lived in the Village right? Well I guess he was a faggot like you, cause late one night this guy shows up, banging on the door. Tells John some heavy shit just went down at some bar. Seems the cops tried to raid this one place and the queers, they fought back. I'm not saying a couple but like a full-blown riot, throwing things, yelling, and shit. It wasn't just that night though, it lasted almost a week. I asked John if I could stay see how it panned out, told him I had some good friends who would be interested. I'd never seen anything like it. Guys yelling things like they are the pink panthers, queens hitting pigs with their purses and throwing shirt. Kids our age, ya know, fighting. Seemed important." Puck finished with a shrug.

Blaine couldn't help but think back to the conversation he had with Kurt months ago. Maybe finally they could start fighting back. He just wished Kurt were there to talk about it. Instead, Blaine picked another tune out on his guitar and thought. He let his mind wander to a place and time where Kurt was here back, and they could be free to be with each other anywhere. It seemed like such a pipe dream, but he couldn't help but smile at the image of being able to walk hand in hand with Kurt down the street without fear. He pictured it and played, ignoring Pucks sideways glance at the love song falling from his fingers. Like he had told Kurt, he had to hope, because sometimes that is all you have.

Three weeks after last glimpsing Kurt's face as it disappeared down the driveway, Blaine made another trip to the mailbox. He was alone, his insistence, not wanting anyone else there when a letter finally came. He was just closing the rusted metal box, empty once more, when a cloud of dust billowing up on his right caught his eye. Haloed by the cyclone of dirt, an all too familiar car came hurtling towards him. Blaine shielded his eyes as Jeff's car came to a stop beside him on the driveway.

"Blaine!" Jeff cried in elation at seeing his friend standing there.

A slow smile cracked on Blaine's face as he took in Jeff's easy greeting. It was almost as if nothing had changed; then again, maybe to Jeff things hadn't. Blaine opened the door of the car and greeted his friend with a hug complete with a few slaps on the back. It really was good to see someone who knew him so well; though he dreaded having to explain Kurt's absence once again, especially not knowing any more details than he did.

Luckily for Blaine, he didn't have to explain anything yet, as Jeff rambled on about his adventures over the last two months. He looked good; happy, and excited though dirty and tired. "Some nights I can't sleep, not really knowing anyone, but I have only had to curl up in the backseat a couple of times. Usually I find people to stay with. It has been intense, but so cool; who knew there was so much happening outside the walls of Dalton," he told Blaine as they unloaded his bag from the car. "So where's Kurt?" Jeff finally asked looking around the farmyard.

Blaine's reprieve was over, so he explained as calmly as he could. As he talked, he noticed Puck emerge from the house and stand leaned against one of the post, his arms crossed over his chest as if on guard. Blaine tried to throw him a smile at him in reassurance though it turned out more of a grimace, his body not able to reconcile the gesture with the stir of emotions taking abut Kurt brought now.

Jeff's eyes widened and he looked distraught as he learned what little they knew of Kurt's fate. "That's heavy, I'm sorry man."

They sat together around the purple table eating lunch, small talk filling the once lively kitchen. "Yeah, I came back here because I thought you wouldn't want to miss it." Jeff explained as they munched on fresh vegetables. "In a few days, they are supposed to be broadcasting a man walking on the moon. Who knows this may be the first of many, but still seemed like a once in a life time experience."

"There's no TV here." Blaine reminded him.

Jeff's laugh exploded in the room, a sound that had been banished for weeks from the house, startling everyone but Jeff himself. "I know that. I talked to my parents the other day; they are going to the Richardson to watch, so my house should be free. I thought we could all load up and watch there."

Three days later found the five of them stuffed into Jeff's car, music blaring through the speakers as they made their way to Marion to the Sterling house. Blaine had been reluctant to leave, only relenting once Puck pointed out they wouldn't leave until after the mail truck came by and before its return. As a hopeful measure, Blaine went one-step further and left a note on his pillow, incase Kurt returned while they were gone. They arrived well before the broadcast, and Quinn almost begged Jeff to be allowed to use the shower. Apparently over a year without running hot water was almost too much for the girl and she couldn't miss the opportunity now that it presented itself to her. Jeff grabbed sodas from the fridge as they sat in front of the television and watched Beth play on the plush carpet.

Watching Neil Armstrong take those small steps seemed like something out of a sci-fi movie to Blaine as they watched it play out I grainy black and white. It was amazing and awe inspiring; though he couldn't do anything but wish Kurt was there with him to watch. He also couldn't help but think, if they could put a man on the moon, why couldn't they find peace and acceptance here on earth. On the way home, they stopped at a drive in for burgers, Blaine opting only for fries and a malt, thoughts still trained on his heart miles away.

The note still resting on the pillow sent a new wave of hurt through him. He crumpled it up, wrapped himself around Kurt's pillows and forced himself to sleep. His dreams were filled with blue eyes, chestnut hair and words of love falling from kiss pinked lips.

Before he left the farm the next morning, Jeff insisted that Blaine go with him. "Kurt's not here man, there is nothing keeping you here," he had said.

"I can't," Blaine told him, not meeting his eyes, but looking off to the place where he knew their meadow lay. "I'm here until he writes. I can't leave not knowing what has happened, especially not where no one can find me."

Jeff reluctantly agreed, promising to try to stop by before he headed back home and to school at the summer's end. It was bittersweet letting Jeff drive off. The part that felt tortured left at the farm without Kurt there, longed to join him in his rumblings; but the larger part felt relieved to see him drive away so he could get back to the routine he had built trying to keep his sanity. His routine made it easier to keep hope alive and just let the days pass. Nothing changed; they blurred together masking the length of time since he had last seen Kurt's face. The days may have blurred together, but Blaine could still tell you how long it was since he told Kurt he loved him for the first and last time. It was easier though when nothing marked the days that passed. He could sometimes forget. Usually he didn't.

A few more days passed, over a month since Kurt was forced from the farm; Blaine made his way once again to the mailbox, only this time it wasn't empty. Two envelopes lay waiting for him; one addressed to Quinn Fabray, the other to B. Anderson c/o Quinn Fabray. Blaine collapsed against the post as the tore open the letter and began to read.

_July 30, 1969_

_My dearest B,_

_It seems like forever since I last saw your face. I wish this letter could bring you comfort, but I am afraid it won't. Apparently the United States Army really wanted me, because no matter what I said, they insisted I was their man. Things went just about as well as they did the first time; being a pacifist isn't enough to get me out of joining as for the other thing... I told them again, and answered their questions truthfully and though they were the answers they were looking for, the man I talked to said it was only to be expected since I would know what to say this time. So here I am, here by the way is Fort Jackson, South Carolina. _

_To my surprise, they didn't thrust a gun in my hand upon my arrival, apparently that happens once you finish basic training. No, the first thing they did was shave my head. I think that asshole took extra pleasure in shearing me; he even switched blades and cut mine shorter than everyone else. I swear it hasn't been this short since I was a baby. I was a lot cuter then nearly bald than I am now. (Really, go up to the attic and look at the photo albums!) I think that was their first step in trying to break me. They took away something that made me feel like me. _

_You should see me (or maybe not, though I would love to feast my eyes on you) hair buzzed so short I look bald, drab green uniform, and combat boots. I am a far cry from the man you met that day at the farm. I miss my bright clothes, and my hair. (but most of all I miss you!)_

_Right now, there is a lot of running, marching, and standing around being yelled at. Everything has to be done a certain way and at a certain time. Literally everything here is out of our control. They tell us exactly how to make our bunks, how to organize our trunks, when to eat, when to sleep, when to wake up. All of our time is up to them. It's ridiculous and I guess I have never been very good at just following orders, which should be enough to explain my silence. _

_Actually, that is not true... I have no problem with making my bunk, or waking at the ass crack of dawn, or any of the physical stuff they ask (tell) us to do. I don't even really have a problem with the standing at attention or marching along like mindless drones. I have no reason to object to them, so I do it with very little lip. No, the real problem came from my drill instructor's interest in my eating habits. (That and some of the things he likes to yell at us, sometimes my tongue acts before I can think, but more on that later.) The mess hall is like something out of my worst nightmare. Not only is the food in general overcooked swill but the smell of cooked flesh permeates everything. Even starving after a morning of running for miles, I lose my apatite just walking in the place. It takes all I have just to be able to force down what few nonmeat things they give us. At first, he just tried to suspend my mail privileges, and as much as I wanted to assure you I was alright, I just couldn't bring myself to eat dead flesh. In the end I think he finally believes me that I really can't eat the stuff; unfortunately it took him forcing it down my throat, and me ralphing all over his combat boots in the middle of a very disgruntled mess hall for him to understand this. Now, the other guys happily eat whatever I can't stomach and he just looks the other way. _

_So now, I can finally write to you._

_Things are different here, and not in a good way. The other guys seem fine, even those who chose this seem nice. But I can feel the hate all around. We don't really talk about the war; I guess it is an unspoken rule. And race isn't really an issue here, people bunk right beside anyone, and no one cares. But I know if they knew about me, they would hate me. Here the worse insults the drill instructors have are cocksucker, fairy, faggot... you get the idea. I won big ball points when the D.I. asked me if I was a cocksucker and I gave him a loud "sir, yes sir!" right back. If they only knew... _

_We shower together, and I try my best to keep my eyes averted without looking like I am trying to keep my eyes averted. And don't worry it's not because I want to look, trust me I would rather be looking at your gorgeous body than anything these men have to offer… it's just knowing I can't look, that if I do they will somehow know, that makes it hard not to. You know how when you're a kid and your mom makes a batch of cookies, but tells you, you can't eat them because they are for company; even if you didn't want them, part of you wants to try and grab one just because it's there. I don't think I am making much sense, just know that I only want you. Fear is just painting everything in weird colors. I miss not being scared of people finding out is all. _

_It's weird. I talk about you, but I have to be very careful though. One night, one of the first where the D.I. left us alone, we sat around talking. Most of the guys started talking about all the tail they got, or the girls they left at home. One of the guys, Hamilton, he asked me, "you got a girl back home?" I told him, "I got a steady." I try never to refer to you as a girl directly, I mainly use careful crafted turns of phrase. You are mainly my steady, my sweetheart, or my B. (of course, I think they assume you are my Bea.) They asked about you, I told them mainly the truth, your name is B (Bea) and you have long beautiful curls, an amazingly brilliant mind, and a body to die for. I'm sure they are picturing you with a tiny waist and boobs so big you would fold in half, but I like the truth so much better. I miss your body, hell I miss your mind. I just miss you. _

_It's torture being away from you and not knowing when I will see you again. I wish I wouldn't have been so god damned stupid and told you I love you before. I do, I love you more than anything. You amaze me every day. You are so beautiful; I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I miss being able to run my fingers through your curls, they are so soft and when I'm finished so wild and free. I miss kissing you; I miss holding you and being held. I miss every inch of you. But most of all I miss talking to you. I miss seeing your face light up when you are excited. I miss hearing you play your guitar (please don't stop). I miss your presence, knowing all I have to do is look over and you are there. I miss you and love you so much. I wish we had run away when we had the chance. I think that is my biggest regret. _

_I have been telling anyone I meet here that I can't fight, that I won't fight. I'm hoping that I can get a non-combative assignment once basic is over. Maybe then I can come see you, maybe when I get leave. Two years... that's what they have me for. We can do this; we can get through. We just hope that I can avoid Vietnam. _

_You will wait for me though wont you? I mean I would understand if you don't want to; but I think it would break what little of me I feel I have left, but I would understand. Two years is a long time… just know that I want no one else, I love you. You have my heart, every piece of it. If you decide you are done waiting, just please let me know before you move on. That is all I ask. _

_ I would love to promise to write home every day, but not much changes here, and unless you want to hear a play by play account of every hike and run, I am afraid I would bore you. So, I will just promise to write you back as soon as I get a letter. I hope things are good at the farm. I want to hear everything about you and what you have been doing. Please make me feel like I am there, every detail. I want something to good dream about. _

_I love you with all my heart. _

_All my loving,_

_K_

_P.S. When that clod hacked off my hair, I managed to snag a piece. I thought you might want it. I know it's kind of silly, so don't feel obligated, but I sent it to you just in case. Love you!_

Blaine looked in the envelope and sure enough, there was a lock of hair curled up in the bottom. He gently fingered the strands as they lay limp and lifeless at in the space. He thought back to how he used to relish running his fingers through the long locks, how they used to brush and tickle his face as Kurt's lips caressed his own, how they used to shine and flutter in the sun framing Kurt's gorgeous face.

Blaine clutched the letter like a lifeline and rushed back up the driveway to the house. After basically thrusting the other letter in Quinn's hand, he hurried to Kurt's room. On the bed that still faintly carried the scent of Kurt, he read the letter twice over again, tracing each stroke of the pen as he took in each word once more. Only then did he lay the letter down to search the room for his own paper and pen. Blaine's pen flew across the page as he described in as much detail as he could everything of the last month. He told him about the despair and loneliness, of Puck's return along with the reason for his delay, the meeting and the riots. He described how different it was working with Puck, and how much he longed for it to be Kurt by his side. He told him of Jeff's arrival and watching history in the making, only wishing he could share it with Kurt. The words flew out of him with the same yearning that filled Blaine the past month, just needing to share this with Kurt. It felt freeing knowing where Kurt was, what he was doing and being assured of his safety if only for the moment; but he was still filled with questions. They filled the paper next, jotted down in the scrambled order they jumped into his mind. As the questions died out, he wrote straight from his heart. He told Kurt his worries, his fears, but most of all of his deep love. He assured Kurt again that he would wait forever for him.

He wrote for hours, filling each page in his small, slanted scrawl. Only when the small stack of paper was completely filled, did he sign a flourishing B, his words spent. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Looking down at the page Blaine could see blurred splotches where unnoticed tears had fallen. He reached up and wiped any strays from his face. He was just about to get up to search for an envelope when a knock came to the door. Without further invitation, the door swung open to reveal Quinn standing there holding out a plain white envelope. "I thought you might need this," she said approaching him slowly, as if he were a wounded animal prone to strike even at those trying to help it.

Blaine stood slowly and took the envelope unable to form and words of gratitude. "We know he's safe," she said trying to catch his eyes.

Blaine looked up at her then, "No, we know he is alive. He's not safe; as long as he is in the army, as long as he is out there, he will never be safe." It broke Blaine's heart again to have to utter those words; but he knew they were true. Safety was not a guarantee the army made. He thanked Quinn as he took the envelope from her hands, a silent dismissal she seemed to understand. He folded the pages neatly and stuffed them into the envelope. He carefully copied the address from Kurt's letter on the front. Before closing the flap over its bulky contents, Blaine walked over to the dresser and pulled out of pair of sharp scissors he knew Kurt kept there. Without a second thought, Blaine pulled on looping curl away from his head and snipped it from its place. He kissed it gently, whispering, "I love you Kurt" before adding it to the envelope. The cloying taste of paste stuck to his tongue after he licked the flap and pressed it shut. Blaine let the weight of his letter weigh in his hands for a moment. This was what the next two years would consist of; long heartfelt letters, signed only with his initial in the hopes to keep the man he loved safe. Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat before grabbing his wallet and keys and heading out the door.

Blaine hurtled down the road, racing to the post office in the unfamiliar town. It was getting late when he finally pulled up in front of the small building. A few older people walked down the sidewalks, heading home, or to the store. When their eyes landed on Blaine, they either stared; eyeing him with distrust, or averted their eyes, as if he was something horrible to look upon. It was then he remembered this was the first time since leaving his parents house that he had truly left the farm. Their trip to the Sterling's they had met no one but the lone drive in attendant, a young girl who smiled coyly at them crammed into Jeff's car. These people saw him with different eyes. They saw his wild curly hair, the bell-bottoms Kurt had styled for him one late spring day, his dirty converse and plain t-shirt. They didn't see the well educated prep boy he had been just months prior; they saw a dirty hippie. Blaine hated them in that moment, hated that they judged him for finding happiness in his own freedom. He was still relatively the same polite boy they would have met back in March with a kind smile. Though he hated them, he wanted to prove better than them, so he fastened on a friendly smile and walked into the post office, ignoring their rude stares.

He waited patiently in line behind an old woman mailing a package; Blaine imagined it was a box of freshly baked cookies for her grandchildren that lived too far away to enjoy them in person. They were the only customers in the place, so when she started to leave, Blaine backed up to open the door for her. She threw him a disapproving look as she passed through the door. He continued to smile at her as he wished her a great evening.

The postman behind the counter sneered at him as Blaine approached the counter and didn't offer any greeting. Blaine used all the charm taught to him at school as he said, "I would like to by your biggest book of stamps please."

"We have books of 20 and 50." The man told him.

"I would like the book of 50 then." Blaine said with a smile.

"Three dollars." The man said shortly.

Blaine handed over a ten, bypassing the stack of ones in his wallet, wanting the man to know he didn't have to scrounge for money like he obviously thought. When the man grudgingly handed over the money and the stamps, he turned to go. Blaine stopped him saying, "I also was wondering if one stamp would be enough for this letter. I know it is kind of bulky, it's for my friend who was drafted, so I would hate for it to come back." Blaine hated calling Kurt his friend, but he also wanted to make a point to this man.

The man turned back to Blaine giving him an appraising look before taking the letter Blaine offered to him. He carefully weighed it before declaring, "You'll need two."

Blaine thanked him even as he turned and walked away. He licked two stamps and added them to the corner, before dropping it into the mailbox beside the counter beginning its journey to Kurt's hands.

Blaine spent an hour wondering the small town of Lima, offering friendly smiles at all he met. His trip set him with a determination to try to change perceptions, one person at a time. So, with thoughts of Kurt in the back of his mind, he opened doors and offered help to the residents of one small town.


	9. Chapter 9

_August 5, 1969_

_My Dearest B,_

_I don't think I can begin to tell you what your letter meant to me. In the weeks since I have been here, thoughts of you have been what has gotten me through, just knowing you're out there; but to actually hear from you and know that I have been in your thoughts too, nothing can compare. I must admit a small part of me worried that you wouldn't write back, that you didn't really care or that Puck slipped something in my food and you were a wonderful hallucination. Being away from the farm and seeing once again what the world is really like... it is hard to believe sometimes that you really exist and that you love me too. Your words though, they were just what I needed to know that all those fears were silly. You should be a writer someday, the way you described everything it was as if I was there again. I could also feel your heartache through your words. I'm just glad I wasn't the first one to break down in tears after a letter from home, because I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried. Your words moved me. Please don't ever stop writing. _

_Puck wrote me as well, (Quinn too) and told me all about his adventures in New York. I have to say I almost find in unbelievable. Maybe there is hope that things could change. I still wonder if this will be enough for some to stop hiding, I guess only time will tell. Part of me wants to promise to be more open after I get out of here, but I can't begin to think of that while I am being called a faggot and cocksucker on a daily basis without anyone knowing anything. Right now, I just have to get through each moment at a time. _

_You were so full of questions too, I don't know if I can answer all of them but I will try, for you. Basic training has been kind of like an extensive day in P.E., I think for the most part they are trying to get us physically ready for what the Army has in store for us. But I also think they are trying to break us down and take away what individuality we have. It's not just the scheduling or the uniform, it's also things like never using our names unless they absolutely have to, and never being praised for what we do well at, only yelled at when we mess up. The physical aspect is hard too. Yesterday we had to tread water in full gear and packs for an hour. The only way I got through it was thinking of you. I thought back to our times in the tank and just imagined that it was you on my back. I lost myself in my imaginings, transporting me to our tank; I'm sure I looked a sight: my eyes closed with a blissful expression painting my face as I imagined holding us both up in the water. It was not a purely innocent fantasy either, but opening my eyes and seeing where I was saved me from any embarrassment I could have felt. Last night in my bunk, not for the first time, I wished for some privacy so I could jerk off to the thought of you. _

_At least that is one thing the army can't take away from me. They can tell me what to do, and how to act, but they can't control what I think. Right now, my thoughts are all I have control over. I wish I could be noble and say that my thoughts are filled with ways to bring about peace while here, but no, my thoughts are always filled with you. You give me the strength to hope that things will get better, somehow, someway. _

_We graduate from basic training next week and our assignments should be here soon. Where we are placed for our advanced individual training depends on how we score on our placement tests. They were pretty rigorous, the test, and I am just hoping that I scored well enough to train as a mechanic. I figure that wouldn't be so bad, I shouldn't have to fight and my dad was a mechanic is Korea and he never made it further than Guam, so there is that. Most of us will go on to infantry training though, and if that happens I honestly don't know what I'll do, end up in Leavenworth for insubordination probably. _

_I know I didn't come close to answering all the questions you had, but lights out should be soon, and honestly, I don't know what will be happening soon. It all depends on my assignment. Just know that no matter what happens I will always love you and you will be in the forefront of my mind. I know you will be leaving the farm soon, just let me know before you do, so I know where to write you. I have to go now; they are calling lights out. I love you. _

_All my loving, _

_K_

_P.S. got my assignment this morning: infantry, I am fucked. _

Blaine read the postscript again and his heart felt as if it had stopped dead in his chest. The smile that had played on his face as he read Kurt's words fell instantly as dread engulfed his soul. He wanted to offer Kurt words of encouragement but could think of none, his mind filled will images of Kurt in a jail cell and him throwing down his gun as bullets rained around him replaced any that could have come. He flipped that page over hoping that maybe Kurt had written something there, but it was blank.

For a week, Blaine had waited for a reply from Kurt only to have it end with such devastating news. Blaine finally gathered himself enough to leave the mailbox where he had torn into the envelope with the excitement of a kid at Christmas. He walked down the rutted driveway, reading over everything Kurt had written again and again until he made it back to the farm house. Puck was sitting on the porch, guitar already in hand. He smiled when he saw the letter in front of Blaine.

"So Kurt has forgotten about all the rest of us and only writes you know?" He asked jokingly.

Blaine looked up blank faced, "They assigned him to infantry training."

Puck smiled sadly at Blaine patting the wood beside him. Blaine sat down, still not sure what else to do. "Okay, clearly you haven't known Kurt as long as I have," Puck began. Blaine just gave him a look that said, 'well obviously' causing Puck to laugh before continuing. "Kurt isn't going to just roll over and do something he doesn't want to do."

"He left with Finn," Blaine said plainly.

"That was different; he was trying to protect you. He was doing what he thought was in your best interest. The thing about Kurt that you have to understand is, he is always going to stand up for what he thinks is right and for what he believes in. In high school, things were different than they are now. For a while, I was all about being the popular kid, and that means giving shit to those who choose to be different. We all went to school together from the beginning. Kurt he was always different. While the rest of us guys would go out and play rough on the playground, Kurt would always be sitting under this old oak tree drawing. We didn't give him much shit for it in elementary school. At first, I think because he was so much smaller than the rest of us but then it was because he was the poor kid with the dead mom. We may have been little assholes, but we weren't heartless. Then we went to high school, there football was king and we thought we were hot shit. I remember we were freshman when we first started giving him grief for being talented off the field. I'm not proud of what we did, let's just say we treated him like garbage. But Kurt, he would just dust himself off afterwards and tell us he wasn't going to stop drawing or painting because of what we did. Being the jerks we were it didn't change anything. I remember one day he came to school and had clearly been crying; his face was red, and his eyes were bloodshot. I wish I could say we eased up, but we just laughed at him and gave it to him harder. I think we thought he was weak because he never fought back, we thought that day we had broken him finally. He was crying again when he pulled himself out but told us again, 'I will not deny my talents just because they are not what you think they should be.' I heard from my mom that night that both his grandparents had died over the weekend. I don't think I have ever felt so shitty before in my life."

Blaine looked at Puck as he spoke, he could see the pain in his eyes as he recalled what he had done. He wanted to go back and punch the Puck that thought Kurt's talent was something he should be beaten up for. "Is that what made you change?"

"I wish I could say it was," Puck said, "I mean we laid off for a while, a couple of weeks maybe. And I didn't take part as much even when the rest started in on him again, but I didn't tell them to knock it off either. No, we all stopped completely that summer. Everyone in town knew that Finn and I had no dads. It's just something everyone knew. That summer though, Kurt talked to his dad. Told him that we needed a father figure and he should train us in his shop. Apparently Burt was not thrilled by this idea, told Kurt he didn't need any extra help, or to babysit other people kids. Kurt wouldn't take no for an answer though, he stood up for us, telling Burt all these reasons it was important that he do something. In the end, Burt reluctantly agreed. Burt straight up told us this when he asked us to meet him. I couldn't believe it, here was this kid we tormented everyday and he basically demanded that his dad teach us all about cars. I always thought of Kurt as this weak thing who didn't play football because he couldn't, but I learned differently that summer. Kurt's tough, he could probably kick yours and my asses but he never would. He doesn't because he cares too much even when he shouldn't. But I'm rambling, basically what I am saying is you shouldn't worry about Kurt, he will stand up for what is right."

Blaine hung his head, "I just don't know what to say to him about this. It just doesn't make sense, but I can't not write to him. What should I do?" Blaine asked hoping Puck would have an answer.

"Sleep on it." Puck said with a shrug. "Sometimes that is all you can do. And if tomorrow you still don't know what to say, tell him that. Tell him that you don't know what say, trust that he will understand."

Blaine did sleep on it, or tried at least. He mainly lay in bed begging sleep to overtake his brain, even as it raced with half formed thoughts. It wasn't until most of the night had passed before he finally found restless slumber. He didn't wake until the groan of the pipes announced Puck was filling the bath below. He resolved he would write him the next morning after he help with the chores. With letter writing pushed fully to the back of his mind, he joined the rest of the house for lunch.

Blaine was just about to step in the bath the next day when Puck burst into the bathroom brandishing an envelope in his hand. Blaine fell back against the wall at the surprise not even registering his current state of undress. "A letter!" Puck yelled, "From Kurt!"

Blaine rushed forward and snatched the envelope away, tearing it open and in seconds was reading the words. He didn't notice, Puck slip out the door, closing it behind him.

_August 6, 1969_

_Oh my sweet B,_

_I am so sorry for any worry I caused with the abrupt ending of my letter. I was still reeling from my assignment when they were making a final call for mail. I added my postscript without even thinking about what it would do to you. I am so sorry. Right after sending your letter, we were out doing our morning calisthenics when it really sunk in what my assignment meant. Right in the middle of jumping jacks I turned and walked to the officer's buildingall the while my drill instructor was yelling at me to come back. I still had my orders in my pocket and with the ass yelling at me the whole time how worthless I was, I walked in to the commanding officers office. Looking back on it, it was kind of funny how my DI shut up instantly as we walked in. I wish I had a picture though, of him walking out like a whipped dog with his tail between his legs when he was dismissed without being allowed to utter a single word. _

_Once the door was closed, he asked me what the problem was. I told him, "I can't do this," slapping the assignment down on his desk. We talked, for a long time we talked. He pulled my records and he actually listened to what I had to say. I told him that I couldn't kill anyone, told him I didn't even eat meat. I told him it wasn't that I am afraid to die. I don't want to, but I am not afraid of death. I have lost so much to it already that dying doesn't scare me. I promise though, I want to live. He listened to all my reasons, all the while reading my file. Finally, I told him I would serve in any complicity, but I couldn't and wouldn't fire a gun. _

_He looked at me for a long time after that, before returning to whatever that damn file held, but he didn't look bored or mad, just thoughtful. He told me I had top scores on the exams. I asked about being a mechanic, and he told me that while I have the scores and probably the skill, that they were required to learn the use of guns as well. Apparently, it isn't easy to change the army's mind about things once an assignment is given; however, he said he could help. It's not official yet, but I do have a new assignment. _

_I wish I could tell you that it is better, in a way I suppose it is, but I can't assure you it is safe. God I wish I could tell you that I will be safe, but I can't. He told that as soon as I finish boot camp, I am to report to Fort Sam Houston in Texas to begin medic training. I won't know until I receive orders which post I have received. There is still a chance I will be sent to Vietnam, but it won't be with a gun in my hand. I may even get to help people. I guess this was the best I could hope for. _

_Write soon, I love you. I hate ending these letters, because writing I love you just doesn't seem enough. Just know I love you and want to hold you and kiss you. Maybe soon._

_All my loving, _

_K_

Blaine sank into the cold water, letting his shoulders sag with the slight relief he felt. Yes, Kurt was still going to be serving in the army for the next two years, but being a medic sounded a whole lot safer than being in the infantry. After all weren't medics, even combat medics protected by the laws of war, the Geneva Convention? He found his hope again, that all would be well. His heart still ached with Kurt's absence but Blaine knew it always would until Kurt was by his side again. Once clean, smelling of Kurt's homemade soap, Blaine returned to Kurt's room to finally write the letter that he had been agonizing over for the last day. He told Kurt all that went through his mind after reading his postscript, and of his talk with Puck. His birthday was approaching, so he told Kurt he would write again once he was moved into his dorms. He hated there would be a silence between them, but as long as it took letters that it was unavoidable. To help fill the space between this letter and his next he wrote all his best memories they had shared at the farm. He ended the letter with a promise to make more memories he as soon as he could return.

Blaine left the farm the next morning, loading a much larger duffle bag into his trunk along with the painting, Blaine first watched Kurt paint. His guitar lay across the back seat. His surprise at being pulled into a hug by Quinn was nothing to the shock he received at the bear hug Puck gave him. After telling them, he would try and make it down soon, Blaine left the farm. In a way, it was a relief to be away for the place that his mind associated solely with Kurt. The prospect of not constantly meeting visual reminders of the man he loved, who he could not be with was nice in its way. However, as much as it hurt to be surrounded by Kurt, it was comforting. He dreaded meeting new people who never knew Kurt and couldn't know how much he meant to Blaine. He didn't want to have to hide the pain of having his lover so far away. He resolved in that moment, that even if people only knew of him as Blaine's best friend, they would know of Kurt and what he was doing.

His mother, as expected, fussed over the state of him. His curls now reached close to his chin, his face sporting light but visible scruff. Even his clothes were different, Kurt having given him a few new shirts and jeans. Her distressed reaction was nothing compared to his father's explosion. He refused to cut his hair though, and merely packed his 'disgusting' clothes in his dorm boxes. He refrained to point out that soon Blaine would not 'be under his roof' for much longer.

August 22 began with a pancake breakfast. Much to Blaine's surprise, not only were both his parents there but so was Cooper and his wife Mary. Mary was a quiet woman, her shyness making her seem so much younger than her 28 years. She was a teacher in the local public high school, teaching Home Ec and English. He hadn't seen her since Christmas, her obligation to attend her own schools graduation, keeping her away from his. He knew that their continued childlessness was a bone of contention with his father, and Blaine thought that perhaps they were secretly using birth control just to piss him off. Mary seemed to like her job, but knew she would be forced to quit once she became a mother, Anderson women didn't work outside the home after all.

Conversation that morning was business as usual. Blaine did better feigning his interest but caught Mary's smile a couple of times and thought at least she knew his mind wasn't really in it. As he help her put on her coat as they readied to leave she surprised him when she whispered, "I love the change in you. Don't let them take it away." He hugged her extra tight before she left.

It was afternoon when Blaine pulled his Mustang up in front of the local draft board. He steeled his shoulders knowing what he was going to do. Promise or no promise, he was going to follow the example of those men and women of New York, he was not going to hide who he was. He had thought long and hard about it, it was a little step, and he knew he couldn't tell his family or school, but he could do this, at least for now. A older gentleman greeted him at the door and after filling out his name and basic information was ushered into a long hallway.

"Okay if you would just strip to your underwear, the doctor will see you in a moment," the man told him before beginning to turn and leave.

"Wait. Isn't there an interview first?" He asked confused.

"Maybe some places, but here we do the physical first, frees up time so we don't have to bother with the interview if they can't serve." He said with a shrug before walking away.

Blaine did as he was told feeling awkward standing there in nothing but his underwear. After five minutes another old man, this time in a crisp white coat called him from down the hall. Blaine handed him his paper when asked and stood waiting for further instructions. He read from and eye chart and had his hearing tested. He stood while the doctor measured and examined his body. He was surprised when the doctor abruptly stood up and said, "You may get dressed."

Blaine looked over ready to ask what came next, when his eyes caught the large stamp in the man's hand just as it came down on the paper leaving behind the bold red word, failed. "What?" Blaine asked before he could catch himself.

"You are exempt from service, young man." The doctor told him, a sympathetic look on his face.

"But why?" Blaine asked feeling off kilter, this wasn't how this was supposed to happen; he was supposed to proudly declare he was queer. He had decided if they didn't believe him he would describe to them just how much he like to take it in the ass if he had to. It wasn't supposed to be like this, less than five minutes into an exam, not when Kurt had fought so hard only to be denied.

The doctor looked at him again with that damned sympathetic look as if Blaine was upset by the rejection and not by the means of said rejection. "Your left leg is shorter than your right son, it's not very pronounce, only half an inch, but it's enough that the military can't take you. I'm sorry son."

"But you don't understand..."Blaine began, and cut off the doctor as he opened his mouth to speak once more. "I'm queer, that's why I should be exempt, not this."

"Be that as it may son, I've already stamped your official papers I-VF," he leveled Blaine with a steady gaze, "but may I suggest you seek psychiatric help, there is still hope for you, you are young after all."

Blaine just nodded at a loss for words as the doctor turned around and left him to dress. He did so, swallowing back tears, not sure, why he was so upset. The first man patted his back saying, "tough luck" as he handed him his draft card, freshly typed, when he walked out.

His father was surprised when he inspected the card when he returned home from work. Blaine thought he caught the words disappointment as he walked up to his room. Blaine began another letter to Kurt that night, telling him all about his plans; and how they were thwarted by his own body. He let his disappointment flow out onto the page, along with his regret than Kurt couldn't enjoy the same fate he did.

The next morning with no word to his parents, he loaded his car with all the boxes and bags he could fit. With only a hastily written note on the kitchen table, Blaine made his way to Kent State. There not only did he check into his new dorm, he also officially changed his major. Without the threat of Vietnam or the Army over his head he resolved to live the life he wanted fully, his father be damned.

That night alone in his dorm, Blaine finished his letter to Kurt telling him of his new plan, finally feeling freer than he had ever before away from the farm. He promised that when Kurt returned home, he would be someone Kurt would be proud to be with because he would completely be himself. With a kiss, he dropped the letter into the campus mailbox the next morning, sending his love to Kurt the only way he knew how.

Over the next few days, the campus began to fill with students. Most of the guys in his dorm seems nice enough and Blaine found his guitar was a nice ice breaker. More than once Blaine found himself approached by new people as he played different songs out in the quad by his building. Blaine could see that most of the girls were flirting with him, it was flattering he supposed, but nothing more. When the flirting became more overt, he would start playing a love song and mention his sweetheart. This made most of the girl to suddenly remember some important task they had to attend to, but sometimes they would blush a bit before just talking to him.

Soon it was time for him to meet his advisor and hash out his schedule. Professor Scott was younger than most he had glimpsed in the offices, perhaps Coopers age if not a bit younger. He was friendly man and greeted Blaine with a smile. He didn't give Blaine's appearance a second look, though he was wearing one of the few pairs of bellbottoms he now owned paired with chambray shirt Kurt had embroidered for him. He merely gestured to the chair across the desk. "Sit down Blaine, so I see you want to major in English is that correct."

"Yes sir," Blaine answered with a charming smile he had learned to use at Dalton. "I think I want to be a writer."

"Really," Professor Scott said with a smile, "and what kind of writer do you want to be?"

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck suddenly feeling nervous though his advisor's smile didn't leave his face. "Um… well I'm not sure. I just know that I like to write and I want to use my writing to make a difference."

"No, that's fine. I wasn't trying to judge you." He said with another easy smile. "I was just trying to figure out if you wanted to take classes geared more towards journalism or creative writing."

Blaine could feel the nerves leaving his body, he wasn't being judge, he was being listened to. This was something he wasn't used to with the adults in his life. "I'd like both if at all possible. I want to see what seems to fit first."

"Completely possible. Now I usually advice my freshmen to take twelve hours, that is usually enough to keep the draft board happy with their progress."

Blaine shook his head, "No need to worry about that with me, I'm already exempt so I don't have a student deferment. I would like, however, to take as many classes as possible. I, uh… want to stay busy,"

"Are you sure?" Scott asked, concern diminishing his smile. "College is a huge adjustment; I don't want to set you up for failure."

"I am sure. I just graduate from an intensive private school so I am used to a challenge." Blaine began, before preparing himself for the real reason for wanting to load himself down with work. "My best friend was just drafted, he couldn't get an exemption or deferment, and I just want to keep myself busy from worrying about him. I know it won't take the worry completely away but I figure it will help."

The professor nodded with true sympathy. "Is he going to 'Nam?"

Blaine shrugged, "I don't know yet, he should just be graduating from boot camp now, and I haven't heard from him in a week or so what with my move. So I don't know exactly what is going to happen, but even with him stateside I would still worry."

Blaine could see the sympathy still there as Professor Scott nodded, "Fair enough, let's see what we can do."

Before Blaine left the office, he was scheduled for eighteen hours, the maximum the university would allow. He was not only taking math, history, and government class, but also an English Literature class as well as a creative writing and intro to journalism. Blaine was please that Professor Scott was teaching both his English and Creative writing class.

He called his parents that night, glad when his mother answered the phone. Although he was disappointed that she pretended that his abrupt departure hadn't happen and that everything was fine; it was better than the lecture he was sure his father would have given. After securing her promise that they would wire him money the next morning for books and his other fees, he bid her good night.

Blaine was unaware of the change that would have been evident to any that knew him at Dalton. He carried himself differently, not just due to his change in clothes; it was a more inward change. Before, Blaine walked with an almost stiff set to his shoulders, as if afraid if he didn't he would curl in on himself. Now he walked with an easy confidence, not quite the dancelike movements of Kurt, but as if his skin fit perfectly. His smile was easier, not force or overtly polite, although a tinge of sadness filled his eyes even when he laughed now. He would sit on the grass for hours, playing his guitar, unmindful of the looks he was getting; only realizing he was drawing attention when approached.

In just a few days, Blaine was on the tongues of most to the student body, though most didn't know his name. The talk was mostly positive, only a few boys jealously accused him of not belonging in the university. They were quickly shut up however; as most enjoyed the atmosphere, he brought to the campus.

Blaine would have probably recoiled at the attention he brought to himself, but unmindful he lost himself in the music. None of those watching him or talking about him knew the worry that lay on his heart. No one knew of the letter that he longed to receive. None knew that his heart yearned for a young man whose location he didn't know, not at the moment, not without that letter. Their opinions might have changed had they known what was in his heart.

Lost in his own world though, in his own thoughts and yearnings, Blaine played on; every song for Kurt. All for Kurt.


	10. Chapter 10

_September 8,1969_

_Oh my lovely B,_

_I hope you know that I am already proud of you; you don't have to change a thing to make me proud. We are all destined to change, with each breath we take, we are no longer the exact same person we were just moments before. Our experiences shape us into who we are. I would not be the same person if I hadn't been born when I was, or lost my mom, my dad, or my grandparents in the exact moments I did. But it isn't just the big events in our lives that change us. One kind word, one smile is sometimes all it takes. _

_The important thing to remember is to try to change for the better, don't let the hard times make you hard. After losing my dad, I could have closed myself off from the world and become bitter that he was taken away from me sooner than was fair; instead I vowed to embrace life because we never know how long we have. _

_Starting College is one of those big moments though, and I am sure you won't be the same Blaine I left back at the farm. Not only do you have to opportunity to learn, but you get to experience so many great things that college life has to offer. I really wish I could be there experiencing them alongside you. I have to admit I am a little jealous, I love to learn and was looking forward to going away to college, living life on my own, and learning new things. It's not that I regret my time at the farm exactly, after all if I wouldn't have been there I never would have met you, and that is something I would never change. I think that I am just feeling the loss of the chance more by being here. _

_So, yes, you are going to change, it would be hard not to. Just know I don't expect you to change for me. I don't love you for what you might become but for the person you are. I also love you for the person I see inside you, that I have seen emerging a little day-by-day. Because while we change in our lives, the essential part of us, what makes us all unique is always there. That is the part of you I love the most. You care so much, and you are so brave and compassionate. You see the best in the world, while also seeing it for what it is. That won't change, and I love you for it. And if you love the essential parts of me, what makes me who I am (and I think you do) then I am not afraid of us changing and losing our love for each other. _

_I have to say though; I was upset by your plan for the draft board. That was a dangerous and rash thing for you to want to do. I understand that you said you thought long and hard about it; but it could have ended so badly. Besides, you made a promise to me that you wouldn't. I suppose it was wrong of me though to demand that of you. It's not that I think I know what is best for your life, but I realize that that was exactly what it could seem like. I just wish you had talked to me about it before hand, although I realize that would have been hard to do. So while I am upset, I understand: if that makes sense. _

_In the end, I am just glad that you are never in danger of being where I am. And you shouldn't feel guilty about that either. I am not here because some great cosmic force flipped a coin to whether you or I would be drafted. I am here because of a broken system that thinks that if the military needs more soldiers all they have to do is pick names out of a hat and force people to serve. It is me and not you because I was found fit for service and my name got pulled, nothing more. So, I don't want to read another word about how you feel guilty. I want you to stop feeling guilty; although I know that you can't help the way you feel. Just know that I am in no way upset that you got an exemption and I didn't. I have come to a peace with my fate._

_Speaking of which, I am now in Texas, and holy hell is it hot here. My official papers came two days after I sent my last letter, three days before graduation. I think I am the only one who's whole leave was taken up by travel time, all organized by the army of course. I think they know I might go AWOL if given the chance. _

_Things are different here, we aren't yelled at as much. So while you get to sit in classes learning about wonderful works of literature, I get to sit through training videos about combat medicine. If I didn't hate guns before, just seeing what they can do to the human body, makes me wonder why they were ever invented. Why have we as people made it a priority to find the grisliest ways to maim and kill each other? Thankfully, the videos are not all we do. We are basically learning how to be nurses. IVs, CPR, recognizing common skin infections and diseases, treating wounds. At least I know here I will be able to help people. It's still early in our training, just working on perfecting our skills in a classroom. From what I have heard though it will get intense before long. They want us to be able to work in high-pressure situations and be able to do what needs to be done almost as second nature. _

_I will be here for three months, so until around the middle of November. We actually get some of the longest training of any the army offers. That is the good news; I should be safe for the next three months. However, I need to warn you that the likelihood I will escape Vietnam completely are slim. From everything I heard, most of us will go: either stationed in a hospital, assigned to medi-vacs, or as combat medics stationed with a company. A few may be lucky enough to go to a hospital out of Vietnam, but it is unlikely. I want you to be prepared; I didn't think it would be right to keep this from you. So while I don't want you to spend the next three months worrying about me, I also didn't want to blindside you with it when I get my orders. _

_I am trying to work as hard as I can; I need a distraction from missing you. But I have also decided that if I am going to be here, I am going to try to do as much good as I can. If I can save one family from having to grieve over a loved one then I will. I have my dog tags now, and they are oddly comforting. I remember sitting on my dad's lap when I was little and running my hands over the letters of his, the feel almost hypnotizing. I find myself laying on my bunk running my fingers over them, only now I don't imagine his arms around me, I imagine yours. I can let myself feel safe in that moment, wrapped up in your arms like so many nights on the farm. God, I miss you. It is like there is this hole inside me that only you can fill, and I will never be whole until we are together again. Write me soon please, I reread each of your letters every night even though I have them memorized by now. The paper gets softer each day and I am afraid one day they will just fall apart, but I can't stop myself from pulling them out every night. I carry your lock of hair, tied up with a string, in the pocket of my shirt, as close to my heart as I can get. Anything to have some part of you close to me. _

_I love you, and will do everything in my power to come home to you. If we can survive this, and I have no doubts we will come out of this stronger, I promise you that we will be together fully, no matter what. Take care of yourself and I promise to do the same. I love you. _

_All my loving, _

_K_

Letters bridged the gap between the two boys, both feeling the loss of the other's presence but determined to make the best of their time apart. New letters joined old, one stack safely stashed in the bottom of a footlocker, the other tied with a faded ribbon that once adorned a heartfelt present and hidden underneath a mattress. The stacks grew thicker as September passed slowly in a parade of classes and training sessions. The letters helped ease the ache both felt at the separation, being allowed to glimpse the life the other was now living.

Blaine's classes filled much of his time. Soon papers demanded to be written and his reading list grew longer; but regardless of the work when a new letter would show up in his mailbox, he would drop everything else to devour it. Once read through at least three times, Blaine would start in on his main letter in earnest, filling in any gap his previous notes may have missed. Each night before going to bed, Blaine had taken to writing little notes to Kurt about his day. He would fill the paper with any stories or trivialities that Blaine could think of. Sometimes they were about his lessons that day, sometimes it was something he saw that made him think of Kurt. If anyone had seen them, they would have thought it was a diary, just filled with random musing. When a proper letter was written, Blaine would stack them all together in chronological order before stuffing them in an envelope to send to Kurt. Sometimes he would include stories or sample articles he had written for class, painstakingly copied by hand.

Kurt never failed to show his appreciation for each word written. He was more hesitant in his stories though, never really embellishing on his time, only mentioning his training in passing. Blaine didn't mind, although he wanted to know exactly what Kurt's days were like. He understood that to Kurt he was an escape. September passed and while in Ohio the days were getting colder as October started in earnest, Kurt never failed to mention the lingering heat Houston had to offer.

Blaine had made no real friends in his time at Kent State just a large group of acquaintances. He still had no one to confide in, to truly talk to, just people he could shoot the breeze with between classes. He still spent a good deal of time out on the lawn playing his guitar, eking out what time he had until it became too cold. It was one of those days in late October that Blaine met Judy. The day had been hard on him; everything he saw made him think of Kurt. He was feeling the distance more than usual, and for some strange reason, he had no work due for any of his classes, leaving him with even more time on his hands to think. Trying to distract himself, he braved the bone aching chill to play outside. His song selection was increasingly melancholic, feeding the ache growing in his chest. He was just finishing up 'Yesterday' when he felt someone sit down beside him. He looked over to see a small blonde girl around his age making herself comfortable at his side.

"Bad break up?" she asked a sympathetic smile on her face.

Blaine shook his head, still staring at her in wonder. Over the last few weeks, fewer people had been stopping to chat with him as he played. "Not exactly," he told her wrapping his arms around his guitar.

She seemed to study him for a moment, "I've seen you around a lot. I live in Allyn Hall; you room in Clark right? Oh, I'm Judy by the way."

"Yeah, I'm on the third floor. Blaine." He said reaching his hand out to shake.

"Does your roommate not like you playing in your room?" She asked, wrapping her arms around herself trying to ward of the cold.

"No, I lucked out; I am roommate free this semester." She looked at him obviously wanting an explanation. "Sometimes I just want to get out of my room. Being outside helps me clear my mind."

"I guess I can respect that, but pretty soon you'll have to take it inside or risk pneumonia." She said giving him a pointed look.

Blaine couldn't help but laugh, a rarity now that Kurt was gone and subject to the whim of the army. "I suppose you're right, though I think I can eke out a couple of more weeks anyways."

"And what a blessing it is for those of us who have the privilege to listen in." She smiled at him, but it wasn't the flirty smile he was used to from girls recently, just an easy friendly one. "So why the sad songs?"

Blaine was taken aback by the question, whenever approached no one had yet questioned his song selection. His surprise led to honesty. "I sing what I feel. I'm sad so I sing sad songs."

"But it isn't a break up?" she pried.

"No, not a break up, just a forced separation." He told her, to which she just raised an eyebrow. The gesture was such a reminder of Kurt tears sprang to his eyes unbidden. "Have you ever met someone that you just felt drawn to?"

"Romantically? No" she said with a sad smile.

"Not just romantically, but in every way. Where it is as if they were just made for you." He whispered.

Her tone in reply was the same "Can't say that I have, not yet anyway."

"That was K- Kay; from the moment we met I just knew we had to get to know each other better. We spent every moment we could together after that. I fell deeply and irrevocably in love, and K, K fell in love with me. By a cruel twist of fate, K had to leave; there was no real choice in the matter after a point. We had a chance to runaway together, but before we could, K was taken away. Now we have only letters and it's just hard to muster the energy to be happy sometimes. So I sing sad songs until we can be together again."

Blaine had never had to tell anyone about Kurt that didn't know them or of their love. It was harder than he imagined talking about him without revealing his gender. He didn't want to refer to him as a girl so he just called him K. For her part, Judy just nodded along while he talked.

"That must be hard; it probably doesn't help when random girls come over to talk you up." At Blaine's raised eyebrow she laughed, "not me, I've see the other girls fawning over you, even heard them trying to think of ways to steal you away from your mysterious sweetheart. I'm not here to hit on you; I just thought you looked like you needed a friend."

Blaine couldn't help the small smile, "Yeah, I think I would like that."

They sat out on the quad talking. Judy didn't ask any more questions about K and Blaine offered no more information. It was nice talking to someone again, and not just exchange pleasantries. It wasn't too long though before Judy began shivering enough for Blaine to notice. "You are freezing; do you want to take this conversation inside?" She nodded gratefully. "Your room or mine?" Blaine asked.

"And even if it wasn't clear before that you paid no attention to those girls before it is now, K sure is lucky. We aren't allowed in each other's dorm rooms only in the common rooms. It's the colleges own personal form of birth control."

"Damn, I don't feel up to crowds and our common room is always full. What about yours" Blaine asked.

"The same, I do know one place, but I don't think you'll be allowed your guitar." She told him.

She waited downstairs while Blaine checked his mailbox (empty) and ran his guitar up to his room. He them followed her to the library where they spent the next few hours talking like old friends. Judy was nice; she knew when to prod for more answers and when to leave a subject alone. That night, back in his dorm, Blaine wrote to Kurt telling him all about his new friend.

From that day forward, Judy would be waiting in the common room of Clark Hall whenever Blaine got out of class, since his classes ran later. She would greet him and walk with him as he checked his mail, before they would head out to one of the study rooms in the library. Sometimes they would sit together as they did their work, others they would sit and talk. She was very understanding too. Only three days after meeting and beginning their weird new ritual, Kurt's newest letter came. Seeing the familiar army issue envelope sitting in his box, Blaine's face broke into an excited smile. Seeing his reaction, Judy seemed to know what the letter was.

"It looks like you have more important things to take care of today than keeping me company." She said. Blaine wanted to protest, but this was Kurt, whom he hadn't heard from in a week. He yearned to run up to his room and savor the letter, memorize every stroke before replying, but he felt as if he was abandoning the only friend the school had yet to offer him. He opened his mouths to say something, though he wasn't sure what it would be when Judy clamped her hand over it. "No, from that goofy look on your face, I think it is safe to assume that it is from K, so you go and read that letter. Tell K that I hope we get to meet one day soon. I'll see you tomorrow."

When Blaine did reply to Kurt letter, he made sure to pass along Judy's message, though he knew that most likely a meeting wouldn't happen for a while if ever. While Blaine didn't want to hide who he was anymore, he wasn't sure if Judy would be do understanding if she knew that k was actually Kurt. He hoped but couldn't be sure. The evening was spent writing to Kurt, so the next day, Blaine had even more work to do. To his surprise, Judy didn't ask any questions about his letter, just allowed them to work in silence.

Judy was a welcome distraction from the constant worry Blaine felt. When he was alone, his thoughts would always turn to Kurt's fate without fail. It wasn't that Blaine wanted to stop thinking about Kurt; he just wanted to focus on the positive. That was easier while talking to Judy. He could only focus on the positive, since talking to Judy about him meant leaving out some very important details: his being drafted into the army and his gender. They talked about Kurt's art, Blaine showing off his guitar and bringing down the painted glass and a sketch Kurt had done of him one evening in the loft. He shared his feelings, and the loss he felt with Kurt away. Blaine was always careful to talk around the fact that Kurt was a boy, never using pronouns mainly sticking to his name and terms of endearments.

They spoke of other things, their classes, music, movies, television shows. She laughed at Blaine's lack of knowledge of anything that came out in the last several months. They talked current events. He learned about the things that he had missed while sheltered from the world at the farm. Both the grisly, like the murder of Sharon Tate along with her unborn child and the continued hunt for the killer; and the grand, like the massive free concert in New York. Judy gave great detail about Woodstock, the music, and the people. She was visiting he cousin in New York and they had all piled in a car to make the trek there. Blaine listened with rapt attention as she described in detail every moment she could remember. Blaine wished he could have been there, dancing in the mud and rain with Kurt by his side. Maybe if they would have left sooner, they could have been there. He thought of them listening to Jimi Hendrix play live, and listening to many of the musicians he loved up there on stage. He imagined begin wrapped up in Kurt arms as music played all around them, the crowd lost in their own world and unmindful of the two lovers. The scenes played out in his mind as Judy spoke, he could see them there alongside her being part of history in the making. Blaine felt a pang at the thought, but tried to push it away as Judy rambled on. The thought came back at him as he sat to write another note to Kurt. He relayed all that Judy had told him, yearning for what might have been in each word.

It didn't take them long to begin talking politics, though in hushed tones. They spoke quietly about their opposition to the war and the draft. Judy didn't expound on her reasons so Blaine kept his to himself as well. All the same, they talked about the changes that needed to be made. They both lamented the fact they could not march in Washington at the protest that took place November 15th, wanting their voiced to be heard against the war.

It didn't take long in their friendship for Judy to notice Blaine's bizarre eating habits. After only their second meal together, she mentioned it.

"So, Blaine, what's with the food anyway?" she asked pointing to his plate of mashed potatoes, green beans and carrots.

"K doesn't eat meat, and after hearing the reasons, I gave it up too." He said simply before explaining Kurt's reasoning. She seemed to understand, and while she still enjoyed her hamburger, she didn't give him any grief from then on about it.

Judy made Kent State more bearable, made it less lonely, and made the time pass quicker. Blaine still waited with bated breath for Kurt's next letter, but she offered a nice distraction for a few hours a day at least.

On November 14th, Blaine was returning to Clark Hall, knowing Judy would be waiting there for him, instead of driving to Washington to protest like they wanted to. However, Judy wasn't the only thing waiting there; a letter lay in his mailbox like so many before. Blaine snatched it up in anticipation, already giving Judy and apologetic smile.

Judy laughed at the face Blaine was making, "Okay lover boy, go read your letter. I know where I stand in your life." She joked, giving him a hug before heading to her own dorm for the evening. Blaine was still laughing when he opened the door to his room and tore the letter open. His laughter halted as he began to read the words written there.


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N: Ok maybe I am spoiling you with 3 updates in one day, but the reviews I have gotten, though not many have been so wonderful and touching that I felt like rewarding you for them. I love every word you have written to me. If you want to follow me on Tumblr I am trying to post tidbits, head cannon and sneak peeks there. I am kurtswish there as well_**

_November 8,1969_

_My loving and beautiful B, _

_I had completely different letter written, almost ready to send, but I didn't want this to be a postscript or added like an afterthought. I got my orders today. I will be shipping out on November 27 headed for Vietnam as the combat medic for Bravo Company. I feel almost numb at the news; it just doesn't seem real. I know I have been training for this for the last few months, but I still secretly hoped I would end up in a hospital somewhere. I have been working hard, thinking that maybe if I was good enough they would want me in a hospital. I am graduating next week at the top of my class and that has earned me a tour of duty right in the heart of the war. _

_I have to tell you have haven't been completely honest with you, or rather I haven't told you everything I know. I'm not going to go into the jungle with a bright red cross on my helmet. If I did, I would be even more of a target than I already will be. There is no protection for us over there, I won't be safe because I am trying to save lives, and I will be targeted for it. I won't be carrying a gun, and even if I did, I wouldn't know what to do with it in the first place if I thought I could use it. I know what can happen to someone when faced with bullets and land mines. It is not even your own mistake you have to worry about either, one misstep by the person in front of you and you will be the one- never mind, I don't even want to go there. _

_I am trying to remain positive and have hope like you said, but I am not seeing any right now. I don't know if you will be able to give me any. I know I should have prepared you better for this outcome, I just thought it would never come to this. I was trying so hard to keep you from worrying and now I'm going. _

_Okay, I'm taking deep breathes to try to get all this out. I really never thought I would have to write all this. I've listed Carole Hudson as my next of kin. If anything happens to me, she's the one who will be informed. Please know I wanted to list you, but I just couldn't put you in danger like that. I will be writing Carole and telling her how important it is that any information she receives should be passed to you. It might be a good idea for you to visit her. I know it may be weird, but with both Finn and me in combat, she will be a mess. Tell her what you have to but please make her understand how important it is that you know. _

_I promise you that I will try my damnedest to come home to you in one piece. I love you so much and just the thought of leaving you behind, that is what is making this so hard. It's not so much the thought of me dying; it is what that would do to you. _

_I have never spoken to you about the deaths of my mother or that of my grandparents. But I think now it is important that you know. When my mom died, it was very sudden. I had just turned seven. I remember that when I went to first grade, I was so scared to leave her. I just knew that my teacher couldn't be as nice as she was. I was right. Don't get me wrong Miss Gibson was a lovely lady and a wonderful teacher, but no one could have compared to my mom. She was beautiful, smart, kind, pretty much a saint; and I realize that this is me seeing her through a child's eyes and probably an over exaggeration of the person she was. But to me she was perfect. I was excited because there was only six weeks left of school and then I would get to spend the whole summer just me and mom. One day though, my dad came home for lunch. I remember (or at least I think I do, it could be that I have been told so many times that it was true that it now seems like a memory) my dad came home every day for lunch. He would close the shop for an hour and come home to spend some time with me (before I was in school) and my mom. Once I started first grade, he would still come home everyday to see her. One day he came home, and she was lying on the kitchen floor dead. Dad said the doctors told him later it was an aneurysm; she was dead before she knew what happened. We were the ones left in such horrible pain. I remember being scared seeing my father crying, your dad is supposed to be the strong one. But he taught me that real men cry, he said that crying meant that you weren't dead inside. I know it was hard and when I was older, he said that getting through; just surviving was probably the hardest thing he has ever done. He said he knew he had to go on, even though he didn't want to live in a world without her, because he knew she would kick his ass if she found out he quit. He carried on for me, and because the world would be a worse place with one less person that remembered Katherine Hummel. He said he wanted the world to remember her and he wasn't ready for the world to forget their love. It took nine years for my dad to even look at another woman. He loved Carole, but he said it was different from the love he felt for my mom. He was happy again, and he found happiness along the way. _

_My grandparents met when he was 18 and she was 15. Pop said it was love at first sight; Nanny would always chuckle and said he needed to get his eyes checked. The way Nanny told it, she was visiting her cousin for the summer whose parents owned the farm next to our families. She grew up in Columbus and really didn't know what to think of this dirty farm boy the first time she saw him. He was working at a produce stand on the side of the road when her family came walking by. Pop saw her and whistled to get her attention, once he had it he swept into a deep bow. It must have been a sight. Pop was tall and lanky, and apparently covered in dirt from working and sitting on the side of that dirt road for the better part of the afternoon. The girls just giggled, but Nanny's uncle called out an invitation to the Elizabeth's to join them for a party the next day. Nanny said once she saw him cleaned up and wearing his finest suit; she was gone. They were married by the summer's end. _

_They were married for 46 years. I was visiting, like most weekends, but Nanny decided to go into town into town because her friend was sick and she wanted to take her some soup. It was getting late, and I remember Pop wouldn't stay still. I remember I was drawing by the light of one of the lamps and I asked him what was wrong. He said that something just didn't feel right. At fifteen I didn't understand, I just thought he was being over protective. Not even fifteen minutes later we heard a car pull up, but it wasn't Nanny in the truck, it was a state trooper. Pop knew right then, he just shook his head crying when they told him what they think happened. She swerved to keep from hitting a deer that ran across the road and hit a tree. A couple saw her car and called the police. She was dead by the time they got there. Pop was quiet just walked into the house. I asked them to call my dad and let him know since there was no phone. When I went in, Pop was sitting looking at her picture. He looked at me and said, "My heart's gone boy, she was my everything. One day you find someone and you love them with everything you have." Then he turned and went to their room. He didn't wake up the next morning, they said his heart failed from the shock, but I know better, he died of a broken heart. _

_Please, promise me, if anything happens to me, you won't give into the grief. I want you to live and love again. Please be like my dad and let the world remember me just a bit longer. I'm not saying the world will be a worse place without Kurt Hummel's memory alive; I would not be so arrogant. I just think that the world would be a much better place with Blaine Anderson still in it. _

_I am not sure of a lot in this world, but I am absolutely sure that you are the love of my life. Even if I live another hundred years, I know I would never find anyone who I could love as I love you. So I promise I am going to do everything in my power to come home to you. As long as you will have it, my heart is yours, hell even if you decided that this was all too much and you can't do it anymore, my heart is still yours. _

_You don't know how much my heart aches to see you again, to touch you, and kiss you and get lost in you. I want to find comfort in your arms; I want you to hold me until I don't feel like I am going to fall apart anymore. I am barely holding it together, the other guys are giving me a wide berth and have been since I got the letter and started writing you. I think the tears are frightening them away. I just feel lost and I need you. Once again, the army seems to know if they let me out of my sight, I would find you and runaway where we never have to part. They have planned differently we graduate on November 25 and my flight leaves San Francisco just after Midnight on the 27__th__. I want to just kiss your lips one more time. _

_I'm sorry. I'm just a mess. I can't stop crying and I just want you. I promise I will write you again tomorrow, but I need to send this out now they are calling for mail. I love you I love you I love you I love you. God I love you._

_K_

Blaine stood frozen in his spot as he read the letter over again. Tears smeared the words, on the page, a combination of Kurt and Blaine's. His mind race with what this letter meant. Kurt wasn't safe anymore. No more would Blaine's mind be eased with the false assumption that Kurt would be safe but for some freak accident. He should have known that being a medic would be enough to ensure anything. He knew he couldn't handle everything alone. With no further thought, he raced out his door and dodged curious faces as he made his way to Allyn. He was barely able to speak the name Judy as he tried to keep any more tears from streaking his face. Judy saw him and collected him gently in her small arms. He barely registered her arguing with the dorm mother, protesting that he was in no state for any funny business. She must have relented because soon Judy was leading him up the stairs and into a neat dorm room. A plump befreckled girl was quickly shooed from the room with the promise of an explanation later.

Judy sat him on a bed before kneeling in front of him. "What's wrong Blaine? Is it K, what happened to him?"

Blaine started at the word. Him? He looked at her with wide eyes, still not able to make his mouth move. "I'm not an idiot Blaine; I'm not going to college to be some doting housewife like my mother. I am an intelligent person, besides I am going to school to become a psychologist, I am good a reading people. It didn't take me long to figure out that K was a man, though I am still not certain what K stands for. Plus, my brother was drafted six months ago; I know what a military letter looks like. I don't care if you are homosexual, what I care about right now is what has happened to K to make you look like this."

Blaine started from the beginning telling Judy everything that happened since Mrs. Hudson had shown up at the farm with that damned letter in her hand. "And now he is being sent to Vietnam, to be shot at unarmed while he tries to save people. I can't lose him Judy, I just can't."

"Hey, it's going to be okay. Take a deep breath for me." Blaine did as he was instructed. "First of all you have to remember that K,"

"Kurt" Blaine interrupted.

Judy smiled softly, "That Kurt has been trained for this, he will know what to do when the time comes, and you have to trust in him. Second, Kurt is scared right now, as hard as it is to believe right now, he is even more scared than you are. He needs you to be strong, to keep hope alive, and to make this as easy for him as possible."

"How?" Blaine asked; glad to have someone who seemed to have the answers.

Judy ran a hand through his wild curls. "First, you need to write him back and let him know that you love him and that no matter what you will be here for him when he returns. Then you are going to arrange for him to come home on his leave before he ships out. I have money saved I can help get him here and you can go to your farm and be together again."

"There's no time," Blaine, said desperately.

Judy looked at him as if he was crazy, "what do you mean no time? Howard had two weeks off before they sent him; he said it was standard procedure."

Instead of answering, Blaine handed her the letter that was still clutched in his hand. As she read, tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. After she handed it back Judy took a deep breath to center herself before speaking. "I just can't believe it." She said sitting next to Blaine on the bed. "I can't believe so much of this. Not only are they not letting him visit his family and friends before he leaves, they are also making him fly out on Thanksgiving."

It never registered to Blaine the significance of the date. His heart ached all over again. A fresh wave of tears began to roll down his cheeks. Judy brought him to her side. "Blaine, I know it hurts so much right now, but you should know that you are so lucky. Not many people find what you guys have. I can only hope I am half as lucky as you are. I always thought that I couldn't find that in Ohio, but I couldn't leave once Howard was drafted, I needed to stay close to home for mom and dad. You give me hope that I can be homosexual and find love." Blaine looked over at her with wide eyes. "Don't look so surprised, yes, I'm a dyke. My point is that no matter what happens, you are lucky, you just need to keep reminding Kurt that he is too."

Blaine smiled, "Yeah, okay. So you're saying I should show Kurt that I love him and will do anything for him, including keeping hope when he can't?" Judy nodded, "Yeah, I think I can do that."

Blaine stayed with Judy as he wrote his reply to Kurt. He filled the pages with his love and assurances that all would be well. Judy rubbed his back when everything got to be too much. Blaine told Kurt about her help, and the revelation that she was like them. Once he was finished, and just as the dorm mother was coming around to announce curfew, Blaine bid Judy goodnight. Her hug wasn't nearly as comforting as Kurt's was but it was nice to be wrapped in a friends arms.

That night Blaine lay awake thoughts centered on Kurt who was miles away lying on a lumpy cot, thinking of Blaine.


	12. Chapter 12

While 600,000 people marched on Washington to protest the war, two college students huddled together in the lobby of a dorm building in Ohio awaiting a letter. Blaine knew the mail usually arrived on Saturdays between noon and three, but couldn't pull himself away from the building until Kurt's next letter arrived. He had promised to write, and Blaine couldn't even begin to ponder the letter not arriving that day. He knew it usually took a few days for their correspondences to make their way to each other. He knew that some letters took longer than others did. He knew that even if Kurt wrote him the day after posting the last letter, (and he knew Kurt well enough to know he wouldn't break a promise) it didn't guarantee that the letter wouldn't be held up somewhere along the way. Knowing all this, he still couldn't face leaving until he had the letter in hand; he couldn't bring himself to think it wouldn't be here today. He couldn't, because if it didn't come today, without mail service on Sundays, it would be Monday before he would have Kurt's words in his hands.

All night the image of Kurt's tear stained face drifted in and out of his dreams. He just needed to know that Kurt found some peace. He could find hope again, if only he didn't have to think about Kurt in the state that he was in while he was writing that last letter. After a fitful night's sleep, Blaine had made his way down to the lobby of his dorm determined to sit vigil until the mailman came. He was relieved to find Judy waiting for him already, a stack of plain toast and black coffees in hand. He stomach churned at the thought of putting anything into it, but Judy insisted he had to eat; finally resorting in telling him Kurt wouldn't want him making himself sick before he relented and nibbled on one slice.

They sat in silence all morning as other students flitted in and out chattering happily, unaware of the turmoil in their midst. Blaine rang his hands, anxious for something to do. His guitar sat upstairs in his room, silent. Blaine didn't want to play music, didn't want any excuse for others to draw near. Judy sat beside him, one gentle hand resting on his back, a silent reminder that she was there and she understood as best as anyone he knew what he was going through. A clock ticked overhead, counting down the seconds that passed. Blaine's eyes kept drifting to his bag that lay at their feet. Inside a letter was nestled in an envelope waiting only for one more response to be added. Blaine knew that Kurt would be waiting to hear from him, but he needed to read the promised letter before he could send it off. Blank paper and a pen joined Blaine's letter in the bag, ready to be used.

Around lunchtime, Judy began to speak, only to be cut off by a sharp shake of Blaine's head. The lobby was free of most students by that point, off with friends or in the library. Still the clock ticked and the two waited. Each time the door opened two heads would shoot up to spy the new arrival. Eventually one head continued to hang though, mind filling with words tear splashed across a page.

Blaine soon lost himself, mind turning to Kurt, wondering what he was doing at that moment. He envisioned him, dull eyed, working mechanically through some task or another or sitting in a classroom, eyes bloodshot a puffy, tears leaking unbidden. He longed to reach out and hold the man, who should always be smiling and bright. He wished them back to the loft. It would be cold now; no longer would they have the excuse of the heat to strip themselves. Instead, the chill would lead them wrapped up in each other to stay warm. He could almost feel Kurt's arms wrapped around him, could nearly hear him whispering in his ear. Blaine would turn around and slot their lips together in a playful kiss.

He was torn from his musing, finally filled with happiness, by a shaking at his shoulder. He looked up to see the mailman dropping a stack of letters on the dorm mother's desk. Before she could even reach for them, Blaine was up in a flash. Mrs. Johnson looked up in surprise as Blaine's hands smacked down on the desk as he tried to keep himself from toppling over his own feet in his haste. She had just opened her mouth to chastise him when Blaine spoke. "I'm sorry. I just... I've been waiting... Please is there a letter for me?"

She looked him over, clearly trying to recall his name before she gave a soft smile, "Anderson, right?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am, Blaine Anderson." He told her as she flipped through the stack in her hand. He couldn't see the envelopes well enough to know if it was there. He bounced nervously on the balls of his feet, silently willing her to go faster. Her smile was answer enough before she handed over a familiar looking envelope.

"Thank you, thank you so much." He hastily told her as he greedily snatched the letter from her hand. Heading without much thought back up to his dorm room. Mrs. Johnson had seen him sitting in the lobby for most of the day, saw Judy offering comfort though Blaine hardly acknowledged her, she recognized the army issue envelope having seen many pass through her hands in recent years; so when Judy rushed up the stairs after him his bag thrown over her shoulder, she didn't say a word. She didn't think the two were going to get into trouble, not while worrying about a friend.

Blaine registered the fact that Judy was following him up the stairs and waited for her to enter before closing his dorm room door behind him. For once, he didn't just rip open the letter but rather weighed it in his hand contemplating it for a moment. He jerked his head up when Judy asked, "Do you want me to open it?"

Blaine shook his head both in answer and to try to rid himself of his nerves. "No, I can do it," he finally said turning the envelope over. "Just give me a minute."

He sat down heavily on his bed while Judy sat in the chair drawing her legs up under her and glued her eyes on her friend. Blaine grabbed a pillow and hugged it to him, before taking a deep breath and ripping the paper open.

_November 9, 1969_

_Most loved and amazing B,_

_I wish you were here with me right now. Well not here, I wouldn't wish you here; but beside me, holding me, loving me. I know if I could have had your arms yesterday, they probably wouldn't have sent me to the infirmary. Don't worry, nothing's wrong, not really. The guys were just worried I was having a break down. I have to say, I am better now. I am still not thrilled by the prospect of going to war, but I'm calm. _

_One of the nurses talked to me, he just got back from his tour a couple of months ago. I think it gave me a little hope seeing him here and in one piece. He is a conscientious objector as well and he gave me some good advice. He said 'Remember, you are going over there to save lives not end them. Keep that as your mantra and you should be fine.' Now I'm not sure if that will work, after all a mantra can't deflect bullets or worse; but I think those are the words I need to remember to keep my mind safe. At least I am over there to do good. _

_As nice as it was to talk to Curtis, I would have much rather talked with you. I miss hearing your voice; I think it is my favorite sound. I don't care if you are singing, talking or moaning (oh the sounds you make!) I could listen to you all day. I can't wait until I can again. I miss your mind; you are so smart and you don't try and hid that part away, how you make me think about things in a different way, but also how you are not afraid to reanalyze some things when someone shows you a different point of view. I miss you eyes; the way you look at me, how they sparkle when you are happy, how dark they get when you are feeling particularly frisky, how when I look at them I feel like I can see a deeper part of you. I miss your hair; running my fingers through it, watching you shake those beautiful curls out of your eyes when you are playing your guitar, how they brush my face when you are over me. I miss your mouth; that beautiful smile of yours, the way you bite your lip when you are being bashful, they way they feel against mine (or all over my body). I miss your arms; how muscular they have gotten working beside me, how protected and loved I feel when you hold me, the way the muscles and veins shift when you are playing, watching the muscles strain as you try and hold yourself up while hovering above me. I miss you heart; lying with my head upon your chest and listening to it beat, (especially the frantic beat as we lay spent) how loving and caring you are to everyone, how you care what other people think. I miss the more intimate parts of you (which for safety and propriety I will not list, but you know what I am talking about); you are beautiful and perfect and I am so glad you have allowed me to share those parts with you. I just miss all of you; you are the most amazing person I know and I am honored that you let me love you. _

_I want you to know how much I miss you, because you are amazing and I can't bear the thought that something might happen to me and you not know how I feel. So, I will try to remind you with every letter, just how much you mean to me. I love you for all that you are and all that you will be. I hope to hear from you soon. You are always on my mind. _

_All my loving, _

_K_

_P.S. We got our pictures today. I know I look completely different but being away from you has made me realize that in all our time together I don't remember taking any pictures. I thought you might want to have it. I would love to have a picture of you, your friend Judy too so I can put a face to the name in the wonderful stories you tell about her. I know cameras and film can be expensive, so if you can't swing it no worries, I just miss your face. Love you_

Blaine looked in the envelope once more and sure enough, there was a wallet-sized photo lingering there. He pulled it out and tears immediately sprang to his eyes. There was Kurt; the picture was only from his shoulders up, his haircut so short you couldn't even glimpse it under his hat, in full uniform in front of a grey background. The drab green was nothing like the bright colors Blaine was used to seeing him in, and it was too small to see his beautiful stormy eyes, but to Blaine it was precious. He held it to his heart for a minute, smiling through his tears, because here was proof that Kurt Hummel exists. Blaine couldn't keep his eyes off it for long though, he studied ever line, dip, and curve of that beautiful face he knew so well.

Judy sat and watched Blaine as he read. As his eyes darted across the page, a faint blush colored his cheeks. She didn't think he was aware of the smile that bloomed there as well. It surprised her when he pulled something out of the envelope and tears wetted his cheeks though the smile never faded. Finally he spoke. "Do you want to see him?" He asked his voice soft, breaking a bit at the end. Instead of answering, Judy joined him on the bed. "When he left his hair was much longer, down to his shoulders. It was beautiful, golden brown and soft. You can't really tell here, but he has the most amazing eyes; they're blue and grey, sometimes green and gold. His eyes always gave away what he was thinking." Blaine told her as she studied the picture.

"He's stunning." She said, a smile playing on her face. "What did he say?"

Blaine ducked his head and bashfully handed the letter over before moving to his desk to write his newest letter. While Blaine poured out his heart on the page, Judy read.

Once the envelope was sealed and stamped, Judy rode with Blaine to the post office to mail it away. Blaine let her take the letter inside; hoping her more respectable and feminine good looks would ensure the letter was not delayed by any underlying prejudice. As soon as she joined him, they made their way to the five and dime. Not only did they buy a camera and film, they also bought one for Kurt, and the beginnings of a care package. Judy had told him how much they meant to Howard and his fellow soldiers to receive special things from home. Blaine knew that he couldn't get everything he wanted to send Kurt at that one store, but he bought what he could.

Sunday, the pair spent the day together taking pictures to send to Kurt. They went to the different places on campus that they liked best, hoping to show Kurt the places he talked about so often in his notes. Blaine posed with his guitar on the deserted quad mimicking those many days gone by when he tried to distract himself. Before long, one roll was already spent, but Blaine knew he had more things to photograph and send to Kurt. He finally breeched the subject with Judy as they sat in the cafeteria eating lunch.

"I need to go to the farm." He told her bluntly, cutting her off from her rant about her math class. She eyed him for a moment taking another bite of her sandwich before speaking.

"Kurt's farm?" She asked.

Blaine nodded, suddenly feeling nervous though he wasn't sure why.

"And why do you feel that way?" She asked.

Blaine felt like he was being analyzed, as if she were his psychiatrist instead of his friend. "I want to pick up some things to send in his care package and I thought he might like some pictures of Quinn, Beth and Puck or anyone else that may be there."

Judy's face maintained it's seriousness for a moment, "you said you needed; now you say you want. Which is it a Blaine." Then she smiled.

"You're messing with me!?" Blaine exclaimed throwing a French fry at her face. "After this weekend you're seriously messing with me. Geez Judy I thought you were about to tell me I was messed in the head."

"You mean besides..." Judy said indicating towards Blaine in general.

"Yes, thank you Miss Pot." Blaine replied with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Before heading to the farm together, Blaine stopped at the butchers. Judy gave him another questioning look, "I thought you didn't eat meat."

Blaine smiled a little, "I don't but Quinn and Puck do, so I thought I might sweeten the deal before I asked to take some of their food."

It felt weird driving back to the farm and knowing Kurt wouldn't be there. Blaine grew quiet as they neared the place. The radio played out low, while Blaine prepared himself for the reality that Kurt would not be up in his loft painting. On autopilot, Blaine pulled onto the long driveway, spying the old farmhouse that used to seem like home.

Puck was out the door as soon as Blaine's car was in park, striding over to them with a huge grin on his face. "Anderson! I didn't think we would be seeing you anymore," he enthused before noticing Judy exiting the car. His smile disappeared and he looked sharply at Blaine. "Who's that?" He asked voice cold, "your girlfriend?"

With that one word, the change in Pucks demeanor became clear. "No, man, this is my friend Judy, she knows all about Kurt."

It didn't take long for Puck to soften, but then return to the crass individual Blaine knew and loved. "Since you don't seem to care who he's fucking, maybe we could..."

Judy shook her head and cut him off saying, "sorry you've got the wrong equipment."

Puck didn't seem bothered, "damn, can't blame a guy for tryin'."

Little seemed to have changed on the farm in the three months since Blaine had been away. Puck led them into the house and into the kitchen. Blaine watched as Judy took in the vibrant colors on the wall, reveling in her apparent approval. Quinn was sitting at the table watching as Beth toddled around it clutching the chairs with her hands. Blaine couldn't believe how much she has grown in such a short time. Quinn greeted him with less enthusiasm than Puck, but it was a lot warmer than he was used to from her.

Blaine presented them with the various meats he picked up for them, earning him a bear hug from Pick and a small smile from Quinn. It wasn't hard after that to get what he needed from them. He excused himself from the group, after Judy had taken several shots with them around the farm. He left her chatting amicably with the others.

The loft felt hollow now. No longer was Kurt's life filling the room. It was now silent, a thin layer of dust coating everything showing the passage of time so clearly. Blaine planned to linger, to take in the place that used to be such a huge reminder of Kurt; but looking on the neglected space brought a new ache to his heart. What would it look like in a year when Kurt would finally, hopefully get some leave. Blaine stalled his brain from thinking of the possibility of a longer absence. This wasn't the same pain the space brought him as he waited all those days ago when Kurt first left the farm; there was finality to it that wasn't there before. Instead of taking in everything that spoke of Kurt, Blaine hurried to a box to leaf inside. When he came upon a fairly new sketch pad, he tucked it under his arm. Blaine grabbed a few newer pencils and met his friends outside.

It wasn't long before Blaine and Judy had to go, excusing themselves so they could make curfew. Blaine for once did not look back as he drove away. He didn't feel like he was leaving Kurt or any part of him behind. Kurt was now housed firmly in his heart and in the words splattered across paper.


	13. Chapter 13

As Thanksgiving drew closer, Blaine could feel his anxiety growing. He spent as much time as he could in his dorm, telling his mother he had a major English paper due right after the holiday. In reality, Blaine just could not face going home and seeing his parents any sooner than necessary. He knew he would have a hard time keeping up the airs required for civil discourse with his family. He just did not have the energy to put on the mask of the happy, dutiful son, not now, not with what the holiday now meant to him.

Blaine hadn't heard from Kurt again since his last letter. He didn't expect to, not with all that Kurt would be doing between then and shipping out. He still hoped though. The care package he and Judy worked hard to fill was sent off with enough time to meet Kurt at his newly assigned post. He had nothing more to do but wait for Kurt to make his way half way across the world. Blaine waited until late Wednesday afternoon before heading to his family home. His mother was already in bed by the time he arrived, and his father was shut away in his office, not even deeming his arrival important enough to interrupt his work. Blaine was glad of it though, he didn't want to face his father yet, not without the buffer of his mother, or even Cooper to temper what he knew would be judgmental eyes.

By the time Blaine woke in the morning, the smell of turkey was wafting into his room from the kitchen. As he strode down the hall, he could hear his mother ordering Mary around the kitchen. She hardly glanced up at his as she hassled around the space checking on the various pots pans and platters in various states of readiness. Mary, however, smiled at him before offering him a small stack of toast to eat. He thanked her before heading into the living room. His father and Cooper were sitting in front of the television a football game playing in the background as they talked about cases from the office.

Blaine did not escape his father's notice long though, he was just expounding on an inheritance case when he glanced at his younger son. His usual serious face morphed into a scowl as he took in Blaine. "You look like a goddamned hippie faggot!" he yelled. "I thought once you returned to school you would clean yourself up a bit; this is not the image of a future lawyer. You look like you should be out the protesting instead of studying law. What is up with you son?"

Blaine could feel his nerves tingling with anger. He balled his fists up to try to hold it in check as he answered his father. "I'm sorry you don't approve father, but I don't stand out as much in classes as you would think. A lot of guys now are growing their hair out and dressing like this," he said indicating to his plain jeans (not bell-bottoms he knew better than to test his father too far) and t-shirt.

"I just don't understand your generation, didn't Dalton teach you how to present yourself as an honorable member of society and not the scum that is littering the streets now. What was the point of paying all that money if they weren't going to shape you into something we can be proud of?" His father fumed. "Look at Cooper, he turned out alright. He never came home dressed like a freak his hair fit for a girl. Why can't you be more like him?"

Blaine glanced over at Cooper while he had the decency to look uncomfortable and ashamed. His voice was cool as he spoke, "We'll, father, as you already have one son like Cooper, I thought it might be nice if I could just be Blaine."

"Did they teach you to be a smart ass at that new school?"

Blaine actually found it in himself to smile, "No sir, I came by that naturally."

This was the wrong thing to say as his father rose to an impressive height and boomed, "Go to your room! Get out of my sight!"

"Gladly," Blaine mumbled as he left. His skin was still crawling with anger as he threw himself on his bed. He stared at his ceiling trying to control his breathing. Never before had he spoken to his father that way. He didn't think anyone had ever spoken to his father that way. While it was terrifying, it was also exile rating to know that he could actually stand up and seemingly ruffle to the man that for years had seemed untouchable. As the anger began to dissipate, a small smile crept onto Blaine's face.

He had been lying on his bed about twenty minutes when's staccato knock sounded at his door. Without even sitting up he called to the visitor with a simple, "yeah", knowing that if it was his father it would infuriate him further, but not caring in the slightest. When the door swung open though, it was to reveal Cooper.

"Mind if I come in?" He asked.

Blaine rolled his eyes at the too proper way his once enthusiastic brother asked for entrance. "Why yes, my dear brother, by all means enter." He answered finally sitting up.

Cooper sat across from him, silent, for a whole minute before he took a deep breath and spoke. "What is going on with you?"

"Did our father send you in here?" Blaine asked, not putting it past his old man to enlist Cooper's help in solving the problem that Blaine had become.

"No, in fact, he thinks I'm in the bathroom. Of course by the time I make it back he will have either figured out I was in here talking to you, or taking the world's most impressive dump." He said with a smile, a glimpse of the old Cooper shining through.

"Well, he was always of the opinion that you shit gold..." Blaine laughed, bitterness coloring his voice.

Cooper shook his head. "It may seem like that to you, but I get my fair share of grief from the old bastard too. Remember, I have to work with the man. The difference is that I pretend as if I am listening to what he says; I don't outwardly defy him. You didn't use to either... what changed?"

Blaine couldn't hold in the sigh, "I just decided that it was more important to me for me to be happy than to please someone who will never be satisfied with who I am."

Copper leveled him with a serious gaze, "I'm not telling you that you shouldn't try and be happy, but like it, or not in just a few years you are going to be working at the firm. You have to at least keep the illusion that you are doing what is expected of you. If you don't he will just make your life miserable. Mary doesn't want kids yet, if ever, I'm not sure if I want them either. So she went on the pill. Do you know how hard it is to keep convincing him that we are trying for a baby? For years, we have put him off, but he still hounds me. However, I will continue telling him the same sob stories for as long as I have to because I love her. Do you get what I am saying?"

"Cooper, I'm not just talking about the wife and kids things that he expects." Blaine said with a shake of his head. "There is so much more that he won't accept whether I hide it or not. But either way, I will not be joining the firm in a few years."

"Of course you will, neither of us had a choice in that." Cooper laughed, the idea seeming so ridiculous.

Blaine gave a mirthless chuckle, "Well choice or not he will have a hard time justifying my hire considering I am not studying law."

"What?"

"I'm an English majors whether he likes it or not."Blaine challenged.

"Dammit Blaine," Cooper whispered urgently as if afraid speaking louder would alert their father to the situation. "Where in the world did you get the balls to do a dumb thing like that? What do you think he is going to do when he finds out?"

Blaine slumped against the wall. He had never thought about what his father might actually do if he found out. He didn't want to think about what consequences his decision might have had. "I don't know. But, Cooper, I had to start doing things for myself. If this doesn't make him disown me, I am sure he could find a myriad of other reasons in my life."

Blaine waited anxiously for Cooper to ask what he was talking about. Cooper seemed to be examining him with his eyes. After a minute he sighed, "Okay, I just want you to be happy. But if worse comes to worse, just know that Mary and I are always here to help if you need us. No matter what it may seem like to you I haven't sold my soul to him yet." With a pat to Blaine's knee Cooper stood and left the room. Blaine looked after him, a feeling of peace washing over him for the first time all week. It was nice thinking that no matter what he might not lose his entire family.

Dinner was a stoic affair, Blaine's father sending him disgusted looks every few minutes. No one talked about Blaine much; it seemed Cooper and the usually reserved Mary, kept the conversation on anything but the youngest Anderson. Blaine was thankful for their interference because as the meal dwindled on the table, Blaine thought about what he was planning to do the next day. When he finally left the table, his slice of turkey covertly hidden underneath his napkin, Blaine was already a bundle of nerves again.

As they sat in the living room, plates of pie and cups of coffee in hand, Blaine could hardly concentrate on the talk of whatshisname down at the country club and the latest news of whatever company he worked for. Unmindfully he swatted away his mother's hand as she pulled on one of his curls.

"Blaine!" Hs father barked at the action.

Blaine looked sheepish at his mother's startled expression. "Sorry," he said genuinely, "I was lost in thought, you startled me."

"When are you going to cut it dear?" She asked obviously worried.

He snuck a peek at Cooper when he said, "Probably when I get accepted to law school."

This seemed to appease at least his mother who smiled warmly at him. When he snuck another glance at his brother, he saw him trying to hide a smile by taking another large bite of pumpkin pie.

Blaine soon escaped back to his room, though he heard his mother whisper in worried tones about him as he left. He was thankful for Mary once more as she assured his mother that it was common for teens nowadays to pull away from their parents, saying she had seen it many times in her students, most of which came out of it to lead highly successful lives. He clicked his door behind him, cutting off any remarks anyone else could make.

The next morning, Blaine made sure not to leave his room until he heard his father's car pull out of the driveway. He dutifully ate the eggs his mother set before him, wordlessly leaving the bacon behind. As he made his way to the door, his mother asked where he was headed. Blaine answered with an ambiguous, "just to visit and old friend."

In reality, Blaine was headed towards Lima to visit a woman he had never personally spoken with, but who's image would be forever etched in his brain. Music drifted over him as he headed down the highway, his brain automatically figuring out the chords as he drove. He checked the scrap of paper with vague directions once more as he turned into the town proper. He just hoped that she would not be working today.

The house stood before him, small and unimpressive. It's pale blue paint was weathered and chipping and the house itself seemed devoid of life even though a light could be seen from the front window. It looked like a place that though once filled with joy, now mourned.

He walked up the front pathway, wiping his now sweaty hands on his jeans before raising them to knock on the wooden door. Blaine strained his ears trying to detect any movement from within. He stood there for a full minute before the door opened to reveal the same plump woman he had once seen standing in the middle of a farmyard. "May I help you?" she asked, looking at him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am, my name is Blaine Anderson; I believe Kurt may have mentioned me in one of his letters."

"Oh, yes," she said standing aside and motioning him in the door. "Please come in."

Blaine followed her inside the small living room, politely declining her offer of something to drink. He sat on the green floral couch as she took a pale pink armchair opposite him. They sat in silence for a moment before she said, "I've seen you before haven't I? You were at the farm when I..." Se trailed off obviously as bothered by their last near meeting as he was.

"Yes, ma'am" he told her.

"I have to tell you, I didn't tell Finn..." she began again.

"I know, he said as much himself. I was there when he came and took Kurt away." Blaine told her trying to keep any anger out of his voice.

She shook her head sadly, "Sometimes I don't understand that boy. He just gets an idea stuck in his head and there is just no talking him out of it. It's just like when he first started talking about joining the marines. Even losing his father in Korea, did nothing but make him feel like he had something to prove, to live up to Chris' legacy. What he wouldn't understand is that his dad didn't want to go and fight. He enlisted to avoid being drafted. He was hoping that he would just serve his time and be trained for a job in the process." She paused and took a breath. Blaine had no idea what to say so he kept silent. "When he found that letter... He started yelling, waving it around. Said he knew where he was, I tried to tell him he wasn't there... But then he just knew I had seen him and he tore out of here. I had no idea what he had actually done until he came back. Kurt, he has always been a special boy. Neither of them ever told me what happened while they were in High school, but I know Finn... I just worry about Kurt."

"Me too." Blaine added when she trailed off. "But Kurt, he is stronger than anyone could imagine."

"Oh, I know he is a tough one," Mrs. Hudson chuckled, "I have never seen someone lose so much and still stand so strong. I don't think I could have survived losing Burt without him. I don't think he realizes how much he helps people."

Blaine shook his head sadly, "then I guess they actually found him the perfect job."

Carole laughed, "Too bad they don't have artists' posts in the army; he would have been perfect for that. Have you ever seen his art?"

Blaine couldn't help but smile. "Every piece I could get my hands on, but not nearly enough. He is exceptionally talented."

"How did you meet?" She asked leaning forward in her chair. "He told me that you were his best friend and that it was important that if anything happened I am to find you and tell you. But he never said how you met. You didn't go to McKinley with them did you?"

"No ma'am," he replied before explaining to her about Jeff's broken down car and repeated trips to the farm after. He left out any I depth talk about their relationship besides, "we just clicked."

The two of them sat talking for hours, Mrs. Hudson eventually bringing out photo albums to show off pictures of her boys. Blaine marveled at pictures of a not much younger Kurt with his hair shaggy but not yet long smiling gently at the camera. He laughed when he saw pictures of Puck his hair cropped short donning a football uniform alongside a gentler looking Finn. He caught his first sight of Mr. Hummel, his heart catching at how different he looked from the way he imagined. He wasn't the tall thin man Blaine always pictured Kurt father to be, he was burly with a gruff yet friendly face. Searching the picture though, Blaine could see the resemblance between the two.

Eventually, Mr. Hummel no longer popped up in the pictures. Kurt's smiles where tinged with sadness as his and Puck hair grew longer. As time passed in the pictures, light seemed to come back to his eyes and his smiles widened and became more carefree. Soon after a graduation picture of the three friends, Kurt disappeared from the pictures as well. This was when she gently closed the latest album and laid it aside.

Blaine excused himself to the bathroom, where he willed is tears to stay at bay. Seeing Kurt, in those last pictures, looking more like the Kurt he knew hit him hard. He missed the carefree look in his eye that was missing in the one picture he had of him. After a few minutes, he emerged finally in control of his emotions once more.

Carole sat still on the couch where she had moved to narrate the pictures to him. She played with something in her hands as he approached. As he sat, she handed him a picture saying, "it is such a lovely picture of him, and I thought you might want to have it."

He looked down and in his hands was a picture of Kurt, not looking at the camera but at something unseen. His eyes were crinkled in mid laugh and his face was framed but long locks of chestnut hair. His eyes seemed to glow with mirth, warmth, and life. Blaine couldn't help but hold the picture to his heart, as if holding it would bring the same boy back to his arms. His previously banished tears made themselves known again as he whispered, "thank you" with as much feeling as he could muster.

"Burt loved his son more than anything. When we first started dating, one of the first things he told me is that if I couldn't accept his son one hundred percent, it wouldn't work out. I love Kurt as much as my own. All Burt wanted, and I feel the same, is for him to be happy." She said her gaze never wavering from Blaine's face.

Blaine wasn't sure if she meant what he thought she meant but regardless his heart warmed at the thought that it could be true. "Kurt deserves to be happy," he finally agreed. He paused a moment before adding. "If I have anything to do with it, when he gets back, he will be happy."

"Good," Carole said simply.

Soon after, Blaine loaded back into his car, but not before receiving a sweet hug and assuring Mrs. Hudson, he would try not to be a stranger. Instead of turning his car back to his parents place, he headed back to Kent. He decided that he deserved to be happy, and spending another minute in his father's presence would not help him in that matter. He marveled at the sad fact that he would rather spend his time alone on a mostly empty campus than with his family. He surged off the thought and instead sang along to the radio as he went.

It wasn't until almost two weeks after thanksgiving, just as finals were about to begin that he heard back from Kurt.

_November 30, 1969_

_My amazing and dearest B,_

I loved seeing your smiling face again, if only in a picture. I swear you have gotten more beautiful in our time apart; I wanted to just rip you from the paper and just hold you. But then I remembered where I was and decided you would be better off where you were. As much as I would love to be with you again, I want you safe and sound.

Thank you so much for the care package you sent. It was overwhelming to arrive here and already have something from you waiting for me, and it was absolutely perfect. Everything was all that I was missing and more. I'm afraid the men already hijacked my candy, but that's okay, I snuck one bag away. I think my favorite thing besides the pictures of course, was the soap. There is something about that soap that makes me feel almost like myself again. I remember Nanny teaching me to make it the first time when I was 5 and her laughter when I tried to taste it because it smelled so good. Oh and my sketchpad and pencils, I don't know when I will have the time to use it, but it is good knowing it is there when I want. I promise to take as many pictures as I can. Part of me doesn't understand why you want pictures of this place, but then again, Looking at the ones you sent me, it was nice seeing the things you see every day.

I feel like so much has happened since I wrote you last.

It's funny, when I graduated high school I remember feeling excited as the date approached. I knew by then that I would not be going to college, so I assumed that it would be the only graduation I would have. Even knowing that I would not be attending college, that I would be heading to the farm instead, I was filled with so much hope and I just knew that I would continue doing that I loved. And for over a year, I did. Not only did I continue my art, I taught myself new things, I experimented with it in ways I probably never would have in school. I found a pride in working the land like my grandfather. But most of all I met you and you made me the happiest I have ever been.

I did have another graduation though, two in fact, one from basic and then this latest one. When we graduated from basic, it just felt like a breath before diving back under. I knew that it wasn't really marking the end of anything; none of us were going on to bigger and better things. It just showed that we survived one peril before being thrust into the next. This last one though, filled me with dread. There were all these people there celebrating our accomplishments as if most of us weren't heading into combat in the near future. At times, it felt like a proper Irish wake, but the dead, we were still walking around. I was glad you weren't there. Don't get me wrong, I would never turn down and opportunity to see you, or spend time with you; but I don't think I could have handled seeing you there smiling and laughing with the rest of them. Though now that I think about it, I don't think you would have been smiling either.

San Francisco was beautiful, at least the small part I saw of it as I traveled with the three other guys who flew out of Texas with me. No one said they were my personal escort, but it felt that way. I didn't really get to see much but the airport, but the glimpse I saw when we went to get some food before our other flight left was breathtaking.

Although the view was the only good thing at the airport. A woman yelled at me and spit on my uniform. I read in the papers about My Lai, I understand her anger; it is a horrible thing to happen, for people to do. I just wish she wouldn't take it out on me. I tried not to listen to the words she said, still it turned my stomach.

It's funny; my first time seeing the ocean was out of a plane window where I had to crane my neck around my seatmate to see it. I also never flew in a plane until the army either. I guess I should look on the bright side and see the things I might never have done otherwise, but it's hard.

Vietnam is a beautiful country, at least it would be if there weren't a war going on. You can catch sight of the beauty though through the burned out blast pitted remnants. They have napalmed large patches of vegetation, and once vibrant and living jungles are dead and burned. Rice paddies decorate the lands and I could see grasses sway in the wind as the chopper took me to the base.

Oh and once I got here I got the surprise of my life. My friend Artie Abrams is part of my company. I think I told you about him. We were pretty good friends, more class friends than hang out afterschool friends, I didn't have many of those. He was just a good guy who tried to be nice to everyone. Anyway, he was drafted a few months out of high school, maybe more. He's been in country for eleven months now, so he only has a few more weeks left. I am glad he is going home soon, but I am also happy to have a friendly face here, at least for a while.

So far, things have been okay, not much for me to do but my basic health checks on the men yesterday and today, and administering malaria pills. Oh and as medic since I'm not on guard duty, I get the lovely task of burning the latrine waste, and yes, it is as enjoyable as it sounds. Although I haven't been busy, things have been far from quiet here. Last night as I tried to sleep, the shelling started. Between the explosions and the return fire, even in my exhausted state I couldn't sleep. It lasted a couple of hours, no one shouted for a medic, so I just lay here and cried. I don't think I have ever been so scared. So another sleepless night for me. Artie told me you get used to it at some point, at least you get to where you are worn out enough you can go back to sleep afterwards. I don't know if I want that to happen, I don't know if I want bombs ever to be something that is easy to ignore.

I go out on my first patrol tomorrow. I will write as soon as I return, we are supposed to be gone for a week. Who knows by the time you actually get this I will probably be back. Try not to worry.

I love you my beautiful B, you mean the world to me. Just think only 11 months 28 days until I can return to you. Keep safe.

All my love,  
K


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: This is a short filler chapter mostly so I wanted to go a head and post it tonight. **

_December 9, 1969_

_My dearest B,_

_We are finally back from our first patrol. I think that might have been one of the longest weeks in my life. Sleeping outside has always been something that soothed me, helped me think; but not here. Not only was I aware of the possibility of ambush in the middle of the night by humans, but there are some truly terrifying animals here. In the woods back home, I never had to fear a tiger happening upon me. Even the snakes here are nothing compared to the ones back home, at least our poisonous ones tend to give warning before striking. The men made sure to tell me each and every encounter they have had with these creatures while we waited to load into the choppers to take us to our patrol area. I think they were hoping to scare me, don't tell them but they succeeded a little bit. I had the most fitful night's sleep ever outside. Fortunately, though, we encountered no dangerous wild animals._

_Patrolling itself was long and hard and I don't think I have been completely dry since we hopped off the choppers. We walked for miles through jungle and rice paddies. It's quiet when we walk for the most part, everyone is on guard. Tension is so thick you could cut it, especially when we are in an open area. It's strange always feeling like your life is on the line. We didn't encounter any Vietcong and the only injury I had to deal with was Bradford got his foot caught under a root and broken his ankle. We had to call the medivac in to take him to hospital. He is pretty new here so they will probably send him back to country when he has healed._

_I may have to figure out something when it comes to food. Our c-rations are pretty limited, and while I can usually get one of the guys to trade with me, especially if I throw in the cigarettes that come in the rations, I think I will get tired of eating nothing by fruit cocktail for weeks on end. I received a lot of funny looks when I told them I didn't eat meat, but they are at least nice about it. We do get one hot meal brought in by chopper every day or sometimes every other day, but once again, they are filled with meat (or some meat substitute I'm still not sure). I do what I can though, and so far I have still kept from eating meat and I am going strong as ever. I just know that I need to think of something soon._

_It's funny I think I have had more encounters with drugs here than I ever did at home. I don't really have a problem if people want to get high. The only reason I wouldn't allow them at the farm is it didn't want any reason for the cops to start snooping around the place. I understand the need to escape, and it seems the men here have even more to escape from. It is not uncommon to see a guy puffing on a joint, usually at the end of the day. It's not as if pot is hard to come by, several times on patrol we would see plants just growing in the wild. Part of me wishes I could escape with them, but I feel obligated to keep a clear head. If I am out of it, these guys could die. I have to do my job; I am here to save people._

_We're being shelled again. I just want one night's good sleep. How long can a man survive without sleep? I hope a year; my nerves are already on edge. God, I just with you could hold me. I love you never forget that. I can't see what I am writing anymore; we are on blackout. A head out again in two days so I will write more later._

_All my loving,_  
_K_

_December 13, 1969_

_B,_

_I long for the comfort of your arms. We are back from our patrol early because we were attacked. We came upon an abandoned camp and we were ordered to explore it to try to figure out where they were headed to or what their mission was. A booby-trap was set under a stack of maps. It blew Davis' hand clear off. After that first cry for 'medic' the chaos didn't stop. I don't really know what was going one, but I was running around doing what I could. It is nothing like the training back in Houston. There were no cries of pain, no scared eyes staring back at me pleading me to help them, to not let them die. I did what I could. When the shooting stopped, Grubbs told me later they killed the three men responsible, I was covered in blood. Half of our men were wounded in some way, and two lay dead. I wasn't good enough to save them._

_They pulled us out of there'd and sent Delta Company in instead._

_I let them down. I couldn't do what I needed to do, and now two men are dead. Johnson was only 18, and all I could do for him was hold his hand and lie to him. I had to look into his terrified eyes and tell him he was going to be all right. I knew it wasn't I knew that I couldn't save him; I knew he was going to die. But I had to hold his hand and make promised I knew I couldn't keep. I hate this and I hate myself. I don't feel like I am helping, I am just here to patch up when I can so they can be sent out again, or offer false platitudes when I can't. Ricky Johnson did not deserve to die._

_Patterson was dead before he hit the ground._

_Davis, and three others were sent by medivac, I don't know if I will hear if they made it or not. I just have to hope that they do._

_Artie said that no one blames me for the deaths. He said something about them depending on me. I don't know if I deserve that trust. The first time I am called to do something other than give pills and check rashes and I lose two men._

_The guys have started calling me Doc now. They said now I am truly a medic. Some of the guys are calling me Doc Porcelain, they have always picked fun at me for how pale I am, but said I get even whiter when 'I am in the zone'. I don't think they realize I was scared shitless. I don't deserve the name, I let them down._

_I just feel worthless. Please tell me you still love me. I need your love right now more than anything._

_I love you,_  
_K_

_December 16, 1969_

_Merry Christmas, B!_

_Well it's not Christmas yet, but by the time you get this letter it will be. It still amazes me how long it takes for my letters to get to you, and vice versa. And to think it used to be so hard to wait for you to come back to the farm every weekend. That wait seems like nothing now. It's been quiet around here lately, well as quiet as it gets. They haven't been sending us out on patrol because they are waiting until we get some new men in and for the rest of the guys to recover some before they send us back out. Of course that means I still have my duties, but it has been nice to know that none of my men will be shot today. Oh, and thank you for the multiple jars of peanut butter, they will indeed help when we are back to patrolling. Peanut butter sandwiches on the rolls they send with our rations, does seem like a better idea than just the bread and fruit. Thank you for thinking of it._

_The new guys should be coming in tonight, so I expect us to go out tomorrow. The break from patrolling has been nice. This should be Artie's last patrol; he is set to leave next week. He says this has been the longest most hellish year he has ever had, but he is ready to go home. I'm just glad he will be going home in one piece. I will miss him though. It has been nice having someone who actually calls me by my name. All the other guys call me Doc or Porcelain, some even all me D.P. for Doc Porcelain. I know that it means they accept me, but it is nice to be reminded sometimes that I am still just Kurt._

_Sorry, there is no Christmas present to accompany this letter. Shopping opportunities are nonexistent and my unlimited time to create personalized art is a rarity as well. Since I can't physically give you anything, I will just have to send you all the love I can. I know I was hopeless in my last letter, but just thinking of you and knowing you are waiting for me helped me more than you could possibly know. Through the hard times, I just have to think of you and eventually it gets better. Even though I haven't even gotten your response to that letter, I know that you are there and your words will help heal the broken parts of me. You are my shelter throughout all this. I love you and will continue to do what I can to come home to you. I am counting down the days until I leave this brutal place and can be in your arms once more. I wish I could be with you on our first Christmas, but I hope I can be so bold as to say we will have many more. I love you._

_All my loving,_  
_K_

_December 22, 1969_

_Oh, B,_  
_It seems like just when I think I am beginning to handle everything, things get worse. I don't know how I am going to survive my time here and not lose my mind. We were on patrol, and hadn't seen anybody all day. I thought that was a good thing, but apparently the locals all know when the Vietcong have been in the area and they steer clear. We were walking down a path that the guys said they had patrolled many times before. I was at the back of the group when there was an explosion up ahead. I knew who it was as soon as I heard them call my name. Not Doc, not Medic, but Kurt. I rush up ahead and Artie is lying on the ground screaming. A few others were crouched around holding themselves. It didn't take me long to figure out what was wrong with Artie. As I went to kneel beside him, my knee landed on his boot. The mine had blown his legs off. Brant had triggered it, but he just had some cuts on his back and legs. Richardson was dead and Artie who was behind him hand lost his legs._

_I had to do my job; I had to try to save my friend's life. I've known him since elementary school and all I could do for him was keeping him from going into shock and try to stop the bleeding. It was harder lying to him and tell him everything was going t be okay. He is my friend, not just some guy I just met last month. He didn't even know his legs were gone, he kept telling me they hurt, but I couldn't risk letting him know what happened. I just hope if he survives that he doesn't hate me. He was three days away from going home in one piece and now it will be either in a body bag or never to walk again._

_I don't feel like I am doing any good here. What is the point if I can't help my friend?_

_I can't even imagine your arms around me. I feel broken and untethered. When did my life turn into this nightmare?_

_Love,_  
_K_

_December 24, 1969_

_B,_  
_They tell me Artie survived. They moved him to a hospital in Japan. I know nothing else._  
_Love,_  
_K_  
_P.S. 11 months to go._

_December 31, 1969_

_My Dearest B, _

_I'm sorry that things are tense at home and you should never feel bad for venting about your problems while I am here. I wish that me being in Vietnam was the only problem you encountered, but I know that your life continues and things will happen regardless to what either of us may want. I want you to still feel like you can come to me with your problems. You can't believe how much your last letter helped, you didn't even know about Artie, yet you knew the right things to say. It's true I can only do so much and feeling guilty for not being able to save everyone is not going to help anyone. I guess in the end I would rather have Artie hating me and alive and if that is the price I have to pay for his survival I will take it. _

_I still feel like I am losing myself here. I don't think I will feel right until I am home. I can't wait to be back in the simplicity of the farm; of working the fields to make things grow, of creating something with my own hands. I long to create again instead of trying to patch the impossible. Two years seems an unfeasible amount of time to feel sane again, I just hope leaving Vietnam will help. One month down and eleven more to go. _

_I wish I could kiss you at midnight. Maybe next year I will be able to get leave and spend the turning of the year with you. As it is, we are facing a new year, a new decade. Let's hope the 70's bring good with them. I have to go, we head out in an hour, and the men should start showing up soon for their Malaria pills and checkups. Maybe next year this will actually seem like a holiday. _

_I love you!_

_All my love, _

_K_

_January 22, 1970_

_My Sweet B,_

_I hope you are okay, I haven't heard from you in a while. It seems like forever since your last letter, and I am getting kind of worried. It's been almost three weeks. My mind is racing with the possible reasons for your silence. Please write soon, whether it is to tell me to stop contacting you or not. I would understand and do what you wish. Just know you will always have my heart. _

_Love Always, _

_K_

_January 25, 1970_

_My sweet, wonderful, and most beautiful B, _

_I feel like an ass now, I just got three letters from you all at once. Apparently they got lost or something. Regardless they are here and I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. After so long not hearing from you, receiving your words of love was like a balm to my aching heart. I never want either of us to feel that ache again. I want you to think of me tonight, think us back to the loft, maybe painting each other again, and think us in each other arms. See it and maybe it will speed up time so we can be together again. You are my rock and my shelter; you keep me from just giving up. _

_I am staying as safe as possible; we haven't had any major injuries or deaths in the last month. Maybe there is more hope than we thought. _

_I love you, _

_K_


	15. Chapter 15

Blaine was happy to be back on campus after the tension of being home for the holidays. His father had not been pleased when Blaine showed him his grades. It was not the grades themselves than Mr. Anderson had found displeasing but the classes in which Blaine received said grades. Luckily, Cooper was there and backed Blaine's lie about freshman not being allowed to take core classes for their major. His father had huffed around complaining about the school wasting his money with silly filler classes like Creative Writing. The tension hadn't let up the rest of his time there.

Blaine had made it out to Lima to visit Mrs. Hudson again. She seemed to appreciate his presence in the absence of her own sons. Blaine just felt an even deeper longing to see Kurt and make sure everything was all right.

Kurt's letters had done little to sooth him since his arrival in Vietnam. Blaine tried to do what he could to help from half a world away. Sending words of encouragement and love, sending food that Kurt could carry with him on patrol or keep by his bunk, were all he could think to do to help even a little bit.

The stress of having someone he loved in constant danger, of never knowing when or if he would hear from Kurt again were taking its toll on Blaine. He wasn't sleeping and what little sleep he did get was interrupted by soon forgotten nightmares. While he might not have remembered their content, the feeling of dread and heartache connected to them lingered as he tried to will his body to sleep. Being in a new set of classes and getting to spend time with Judy again were helping. He could confide in Judy, he knew she understood like no one else. He knew he could have talked to Puck or Quinn but he couldn't bring himself to go to the farm again without Kurt there.

Blaine lived for Kurt's letters. He did things to occupy his time as he waited. It was worse than when Kurt was merely in boot camp, or stationed in Texas, now each letter was filled with some horror that had happened. Blaine held his breath each time he tore open a letter, only releasing it after he understood Kurt was not the one hurt. In between, he tried to busy himself with varying degrees of success. Judy helped a lot; together they distracted their minds from the fate of their loved ones. They found a small group of like-minded individuals, others who disagreed with the war. Both Blaine and Judy were quick to defend those fighting, knowing all too well that just because you donned a uniform didn't mean you agreed with the cause, that sometimes you just didn't have a choice.

They were leaving such a meeting one night in early March. Blaine was telling Judy in hushed tones that it had almost been a year since he had met Kurt. She was laughing at the goofy love struck look on his face and pushing his shoulder as they stepped through the door to her dorm room. Blaine was about to retort when he saw confusion cross her face, he turned in the direction and saw an older man standing at the dorm mothers desk.

"Dad?" She asked as she walked towards the man. She stopped though after a couple of steps and her confusion turned to concern. "What's wrong? I know that face, I know you better than anyone does. Something is wrong what is it?"

Mr. Rudd could only open his mouth before shutting it quickly. He was clearly loathed to say whatever had brought him here. "Is it mom? Is it Howard?" Judy's voice broke with the second question and her father closed the distance taking her in his arms. From his spot still frozen near the door he could hear Mr. Rudd whisper, "oh god, I'm sorry baby"

Judy's cries filled the room. Later they found out that Howard had been shot while on patrol in a small village but died in flight to the hospital. Later they learned he took the shot trying to save a small child's life. Later they learned the child was unharmed but her whole family had been killed that day. They learned all this later but in that moment all they knew was that a brave young man who never wanted to fight, who dreamed of being a teacher, died far away from those he loved.

Judy insisted that she stay on campus until the morning to inform her teachers of the reason for her absence. Blaine argued he could do that for her. Her father argued that her mother needed her home. Judy however could not be dissuaded.

Time crept by as they waited for Howard's funeral. Kurt's letters were taking longer to arrive, a postal strike hampering all mail service. Judy remained stoic when she returned to campus after spending a week at home with her parents. Her laughter was harder to come by, but she refused to cry, at least in front of Blaine. Even at the funeral, with Blaine by her side the tears stayed at bay. Blaine stood in front of the flag draped casket of a man he only knew from stories tears flowing down his face, not caring what others thoughts of his unmanly display, unable to keep from imagining another figure sealed away forever. He held Judy, as she stared dry eyed while her brother was lowered into the ground and her mother was presented with the flag. Judy begged him to go back to school as the large group of people mingled around the grave, not sure what to do with themselves now that Howard Rudd was buried in the ground.

"Please Blaine, go home, and write to Kurt. Tell him how much you love him, please for me." Judy said her voice breaking but her eyes remaining dry.

Blaine gave in and climbed in his car. As he drove, music playing in the background, his mind was filled of another funeral. He could see Mrs. Hudson clutching a flag as a casket was lowered in the ground, he saw Puck and Quinn holding each other, little Beth between them, saw people met briefly long ago in varying states of distress. He couldn't clear his image of this waking nightmare, his thoughts spiraling out of control. A voice, a phrase broke through the storm in his mind, "Let it be."

Blaine turned up the radio hearing those almost familiar words. "And when the broken hearted people living in the word agree, there will be an answer let it be." He knew the voice; for years he had listened to the Beatles, he would know them anywhere. His mind went back in time, to a hand on his face urging him to let be, and his tears eased. He let the rest of the song wash over him as he drove the rest of the way to Kent. With a jolt, he realized that he had known Kurt a year. One year since Kurt had changed his life. In his dorm he sat down and wrote everything to Kurt, the funeral, his thoughts, the song, but most of all his love. Pages were filled before he knew it and the ache in his heart eased a little more.

Weeks passed slowly as Blaine tried to keep his hope alive. He played his guitar more as the weather warmed, 'Let It Be' becoming a familiar favorite of his. Kurt's letters were still trickling in slowly but their presence was enough to remind Blaine that for now he was safe. Late April, another letter arrived.

_April 20, 1970  
My sweet and beautiful B,  
The most amazing thing happened today. We were just coming in from patrol, a fairly quiet one and no one had been injured, so I was already in a good mood. We were heading back to our bunks when this little Vietnamese woman came running into the camp yelling "Doc." The guys were still a bit antsy and raised their guns; I gently placed my hands on Billings and reminded him she had already gotten through the guards. I couldn't really understand her, I have been working with our translator to pick up some of the language, but she was talking too fast for me to catch. All I knew was that she needed help. Billings, Kim and I ended up following her to the village not too far from our base._

Billings walked in to the small house first, sure it was a trap, but when I stepped around I saw her, a girl, maybe our age, probably younger, was lying sweating on a pallet on the floor. It wasn't hard to figure out what was wrong. Her belly was swollen with life. Kim finally got more from the woman than that she needed help, her daughter had been in labor for almost two days, and she was worried something was wrong.

I have never delivered a baby; I wasn't even there when Beth was born, Quinn adamant that there be no men even in the house when she gave birth assisted by Rachel, Mercedes and a friend of theirs who was a midwife. They didn't teach us about this in training either, you don't have to worry about childbirth in combat. But, I was the only one who could help. I had to, of course, look down there, another first for me. It was amazing, if not a bit strange, you could see her opening up for the baby and dark hair pushed against the opening, not yet big enough to emerge. I sat with her, Anh, and tried to calm her down. I talked to her, and surprisingly she knew more English than her mother. She told me the father was a G.I. who had been killed six months ago.

After a few hours she said she had to push, it was too much. It was absolutely amazing, after a few pushes the head began to inch its way out. Two more pushes and the sweetest, if not slightly pointy, head popped out. I helped ease the baby out and then she was there. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. It's a girl. Her name is Be, it means doll, I had told Anh about you, at least what I could reveal. She said it was a beautiful name. So, you have a name sake of sorts here in Vietnam.

For once, I was part of bringing life into this world, not just trying to stave off death. It was amazing, beautiful, and exhilarating. I may have cried a bit, but Billings did too so no one will think less of me. I do feel a little sad that we will never have that. I would love to be a father, but we both know that won't happen, not unless I want to live a lie. In the end, my happiness with you outweighs that desire.

We only have one short patrol next week and then we will have two weeks off patrolling. They have been sending us out more recently because Charlie Company received too many injuries lately and lost quite a few men. They should be up in numbers soon so we will get a break.

Keep safe for me; I need something to come home to. I love you more than you could know.

All my loving,  
K

The letter was just the reminder that Blaine needed that there was still good in the world. Yes, young men died fighting for a cause they never believed in, but life still happened. Somewhere a new baby was being born, somewhere two people were falling in love, sometimes two lovers are reunited; Blaine had to remember this and keep hope alive. When he saw Judy the next day, he shared the letter with her, and she gave him her first genuine smile since her father showed up at school.

While Blaine and Judy started finding a sort of inner peace, unrest began building at Kent state. April 30th President Nixon announced the invasion of Cambodia. He had promised while campaigning to end the war, not to invade yet another country. Blaine was not the only student who was outraged by this news. All over campus that night, people were talking about it. They weren't just mummers of dissent, they were plans for a protest and organized demonstration.

The next morning Blaine, Judy and over 500 other students stood on the grassy commons on which Blaine frequently played his guitar. The students were angry. Blaine was one of them, it was bad enough that Kurt was over there, trying to piece together his friends; it was bad enough Howard had died over there, how many more young men were posed to die before Nixon finally obeyed his promise. He began playing protest songs on his guitar encouraging others to join in. Hearing the large group lift their voices in song to his guitar made Blaine feel more alive than he had in months. A man near him pulled out a piece of paper, his draft card, and without hesitation lit it on fire, holding it high above his head. A man across the way held up another paper, he yelled since Nixon had no respect for the constitution so they should just be rid of it and lit that too.

The anger in the group was palpable. Blaine could feel the energy sparking around him. Judy yelled with everyone else to bring the war home, not to kill anymore of our young men. He finally felt like he was doing something, as if his actions were making a difference. He was finally a part of the resistance, and that they would be heard. Blaine for once in is life felt powerful.

They stood there for a couple of hours, raising their voices. When the crowd began to disperse, Blaine heard people talking about protesting again on Monday. As they walked to class, Blaine and Judy agreed they would be there at whatever the cost.

The next morning Blaine woke to talks of an escalation the night before. Drunken men had apparently began throwing bottles at cars and it ended with over a hundred people setting a bonfire in the street before police had tear gassed them to going home. He also heard rumors that many were planning another protest that night. It was after ten by the time they found the group; flames led them to the meeting place. Blaine was horrified to see a building on campus burning. It was the ROTC building. Blaine didn't agree with the war, and he wanted to think of himself as a nonviolent person, but he believed that if a student wanted to be a part of ROTC then he had no say in that. Wasn't that the main problem Blaine had with this whole affair, people choices were being taken from them? He didn't join the crowd in cheering the burning, but watched in silence as the flames rose ever higher. Judy was more enthusiastic though, she cheered along with the others and even threw a few stones when the firemen arrived to quell the blaze. At this point Blaine knew something needed to stop, he grabbed Judy's arm before she could lob another object at the men.

"What?" Judy said in exasperation.

Blaine looked at her with sad eyes, "they are just doing their job, Judy, leave them in peace."

He watched as Judy rolled her eyes before dropping the stone. "They should just let it burn," she mumbled, "for all we know that building is churning out more baby killers."

"Was that what Howard was? Kurt?" Blaine tried to reason with her as his anger rose.

"Of course not," Judy grumbled," but they didn't choose to go, they didn't choose that life."

"And nothing is to say that the men in there will either. Not all soldiers are cold-blooded killers; some just want to keep the country safe. I support the soldiers not the war." Blaine tried to explain.

"I don't think it can work like that. You can support those you know, but not the establishment."

Blaine could only shake his head at her, "I'm going to head back; this is too heavy for me."

Many were arrested that night, the National Guard having made an appearance. He also heard at least one student was bayoneted. Luckily, Judy wasn't one of them, although she refused to say more than a few words to him. After the press conference with the mayor calling the students un-American and many other derogatory things, Blaine decided to let things cool for a bit. On Sunday instead of Joining in with his fellow students, he stayed in his room, distracting himself with homework, music, and writing Kurt.

Monday, May fourth, dawned like any other day, Blaine went to his morning lectures, and grabbed a quick snack before heading to the commons for the demonstration planned days before, his guitar in hand. Blaine had been handed a leaflet that morning stating the demonstration had been canceled, but knew they were just trying to silence them because of the pandemonium over the weekend. When Blaine made it to the commons, he saw he was right over a thousand, perhaps two thousand people were gathered to raise their voices together against the war. The bell sounded across the area and Blaine listened in rapt attention as people began to speak. As the first speaker was coming to his conclusion, Judy sidled up beside him.

Twice they were told to disperse, Blaine winced when rocks were once again thrown, but he knew they had a right to show how they felt. The second time canisters of tear gas landed in the crowd, but to no effect due to the wind. More stones and their own tear gas canisters were lobed back at the men. That began what felt like a game of cat and mouse. The guardsmen would advance and the students would retreat. Soon, they were in loose groups while the National Guard was behind a fence several yards away.

After a few minutes, the guardsmen began to leave and Blaine pulled his guitar in front of him and began strumming a now familiar tune. "All we are saying is give peace a chance," he sang wanting his own opinion to be heard. He didn't see the National Guard poised where they were.

Across the way Dave Karofsky saw a curly haired man start playing the guitar and singing about peace. It pissed Dave off to no end hearing the hippie freak singing about peace just moments after he and his friends were pelting his company with rocks. They didn't want peace they wanted to be free from responsibility. Dave hadn't wanted to go to Vietnam either, that was why he joined the guard, to serve his country while staying far away from that hellhole. He kept his eyes on the figure at the base of the statue so when the shooting started that was where his attention lay.

Blaine didn't notice anything until he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Blaine was standing at the base of a statue and looked up at the noise only to be knocked back by an unseen force. He registered the screams of those around him, and people running before the pain exploded in his shoulder.

He gulped for air, feeling pinned to the statue unable to move or resister what had happened. He felt like a vice grip was on his heart keeping it from beating properly. Blaine blinked rapidly trying to dispel the haze in his eyes. He felt his body slump, his ass hitting the ground, but no pain registering above that of his shoulder. He looked down finally to see his shirt stained red with blood as it seeped ever further down. Judy's face filled his vision, her mouth moving but he was not able to concentrate on the sounds coming out of it. He felt as if he was underwater, his movements sluggish and like he was drowning. He gulped in air, an anguished scream following.

Judy's voice then broke through the haze, "Blaine! You are going to be all right you have to be all right. I can't lose you too. Just hold on for me, for Kurt."

Tears slipped down Judy's cheeks, whatever damn had held them in for weeks finally breaking. He looked down again, trying to understand what was happening to him. Judy's hand was clutching his right shoulder as blood oozed between her fingers. He tried to bat the hand away, didn't she understand she had blood on her hands. He looked further down and saw more blood staining the guitar strap Kurt had given him. He couldn't let it be ruined, no matter what, that was part of Kurt. He began fumbling with the strap, mindless of the pain his movements caused trying to take the guitar off. Seeing what he was doing, Judy rushed to help. "Keep it safe," he managed to mumble before everything went black.

Blaine woke to bright lights but feeling numb and lethargic. He felt simultaneously like he had slept a week and hadn't slept in weeks. His mind was a blur; he looked over to the side of his bed and saw his mother sitting in the chair reading a book. "What happened?" he croaked.

She quickly stood offering him a drink saying, "just relax." He looked at her face and saw that she wore no makeup now, a rare occurrence and her eyes were red and tired.

"Please tell me what's wrong." He begged.

As she began telling him about what happened, the events came back to him. He wanted to chuckle at the irony that even with Kurt in Vietnam, he was the first one to be shot; but the amusement died away when he thought of having to write Kurt and tell him of his injuries. His mother swiped his hair off his brow gently, "the doctors say you were lucky. The bullet missed any major organs. They had to give you blood and repair your shoulder blade. They say with lucky you should retain almost all of your movement on that side."

Blaine's upper arm was strapped tightly to his chest, restricting any movement. A large bandage covered his shoulder as well. He looked over at the clock it read ten; looking out the small window he saw the sun shining brightly outside so he figured it was the next day.

"Where's dad?" He asked his mom.

She looked down at her book, "oh, you know him; he is probably around here somewhere."

Blaine knew his father all right, and if he knew him like he thought he did he was probably back at the office again, if he ever came to visit him at all. After all, business doesn't stop for just anything.

Just before lunch, Blaine finally convinced his mom he would be okay for her to go. The doctors wanted him to spend a couple more days under observation before releasing him. He was just thinking about how he could get a hold of Judy to tell her it was safe to visit, when a knock sounded at the door. He called a greeting before looking over. He expected to see Judy or perhaps Jeff; who he wasn't expecting to see however was Mrs. Hudson, carefully pushing open the door.

"Mrs., Hudson, you didn't have to come here..." he began before her tear stained face stopped the rest of his sentence from forming. She wrung her hands around an almost disintegrated tissue, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair disheveled as if she had been running her hands through it.

"No..." Blaine whispered. There was only one thing that would bring her here in this state. She seemed to like Blaine well enough from their two meetings, but not enough to elicit this kind of reaction. She had others closer to home to comfort her if it was about Finn. No, the only reason she would be standing here now was if it had something to do with Kurt.

She looked at him with sad eyes, "I tried to find you at school, as soon as I could, but they said you were here."

"No," Blaine whispered again a little louder.

"I...uh...they came by this morning..."

"No, no no," Blaine repeated like the mantra could change the past.

"Kurt was flying in an evac helicopter... they said something about the radio, but I don't really understand. All I know is they said... They said he was shot down... He's... he's missing and they don't have much hope."

Blaine felt like he was going to be sick, his stomach clenched and his heart dropped. "No, no, no...NO! It's not true it can't be true." He cried trying to free himself from his confine of blankets and sheets. He needed to move, he needed to run and find Kurt; he couldn't leave him out there in the jungle alone. He needed to get to him. If the army wasn't going to look, he would.

Carole Hudson stood in the door, tears once again streaking her face as she sobbed apologies at the young man who seemed to be breaking before her eyes. The noise attracted a few nurses who began struggling with Blaine as he tried to fight his way out of bed yelling no and Kurt in equal measure. She saw blood bloom from under the bandage on his shoulder and the nurses yelling for sedation and about popped stitches. All she could do was to try to apologize for turning this man's world upside down while her own was spiraling out of control. Hands attached to unseen bodies ushered her from the room and all she could hear was Blaine yelling as if his heart was breaking. When the door shut in her face she collapsed on the ground unable to move further.

Blaine fought against the bodies trying to keep him from Kurt, from finding the man he loves more the anything. He didn't see the needle in one of their hands but he felt the snakebite as it struck his arm. Try as he might his movements became more lethargic and with a final no, he fell into nothingness.

**AN: I promise I will post the next chapter sometime today. I am about to leave the hous****e and I dont know when I will be back. But I promise not to make you wait until the morning. **


	16. Chapter 16

Kurt hurriedly dropped a letter into the mailbag as he adjusted the strap on his bag. He knew that he probably wouldn't need it on the helicopter, they were fully stocked with supplies; but he knew in an emergency that he would want to have his own bag; he knew just where everything was without having to look. He checked one last time that it was stocked as he rushed towards where the chopper was surely waiting for him. He glimpsed the rice balls Ahn had brought by earlier another thank you for his help delivering Be and the newest jar of peanut butter Blaine had sent. He briefly thought of running back to his bunk to leave them behind, but knew he didn't have the time.

The call had come in an half an hour before, just enough time to finish his letter and move out. One of the regular evac medics had hit his head just before loading into the chopper on a call, there was no one else, and he was volunteered for the job. There was less danger inside the chopper than on the ground so Kurt didn't mind.

The helicopter was indeed waiting for him and he quickly jumped aboard. No sooner had he sat down than it took off. He put on the headset to quickly brief with the pilot. Alpha company was under heavy fire and had sustained many wounded. Two other choppers were already in route to pick up the first of the wounded. Jackson was just explaining the layout of the area when gunfire rang through the air. Jackson swore and Kurt clutched to his seat looking around. A bullet hole cracked the window just to his left. Another to his right. It was then Kurt saw the problem. The radio was smoking and silent.

"Damn it, communications down. I know where we are going, flown this way a million times; but we have no way of letting anyone know what is going on."

" Are we turning back?" Kurt asked suddenly thinking of the men waiting to be rescue, counting on their help to survive.

"No, we will pick up one load, have them radio ahead to know to have another chopper ready when we return." Jackson said, knowing it would be against orders, but wanting to help those boys out there as much as he could. Minutes, hell, even seconds counted out here and he knew how to do his job.

At the evac point, Kurt helped the combat medic load four men on the chopper. He wished the unknown boy good luck before he rushed back to his company to tell the radio operator to relay the message and to seek out more wounded if there were any. Kurt jumped into the back of the chopper and got to work accessing his new charges. He was so deep in his work he barely registered the shots being fired at them, or Jackson yelling back to hold on as he arched around trying to avoid more gunfire. A few minutes passed in silence as Kurt carefully lifted the foil blanket off the last man. His shoulder was a mess, but palpating his back it seemed like no bones were broken, he was lucky. He was just telling the man, Winters, that it would be an easy fix when more shots rang through the air. The copter lurched before it began spinning. Kurt tried to find something to hold onto. The stretcher Winters was on being the only thing in reach. Everyone else was strapped in but Kurt's body was free to swing about as he clung on. Pain shot up his leg as something heavy knocked against it. Winters was clutching on Kurt bag as it flew and almost hitting his face. Yells surrounded Kurt as his mind flew to Blaine. He would never see him again. He would never kiss his lips one last time. Crunching metal and smashing glass filled the air as the helicopter careened through trees before stopping with a thud.

Kurt yelled to Jackson asking if he was alright. Jackson groaned that he was okay. Kurt made to stand and the pain in his leg doubled. He looked down to see a jagged piece of bloody bone jutting through his now blood pinked skin visible through his shredded pant leg. "Oh fuck," he breathed feeling nausea building at the sight. It wasn't the worst he had seen, but it was the first Kurt had seen on his own body aside from normal scrapes and bruises.

"Oh damn," Winters yelled trying to sit up and see Kurt better. "What the hell are we going to do?"

Kurt took a deep breath, steadying himself. "First of all I am going to check that everyone is okay. Then I will do what I can for you. Hopefully someone will find us soon."

"But your leg, Doc." Winters said clearly thinking Kurt was crazy.

"Can wait." He said with a pointed look. "I need your help Jackson"

Jackson pushed his way to the back. He did seem to be fine, aside from the cut dribbling blood on his forehead. He looked down at Kurt still on the floor, but when he made to speak, Kurt just shook his head. He had to care for the soldiers first then they could fix his leg.

Jackson helped Kurt to his feet and braced him as he hobbled, wincing at every other step to check on Downy. They had picked him up with a severe chest wound. When Kurt looked down on him his eyes were glassy and empty, a new bullet hole piercing his temple.

He had Jackson cover Downy with a sheet before steering him to the third man. Steele was still stable, his leg wound only oozing now. It was a straight through shot, and like Winters not major bones or arteries had been hit. The final man, Ballard, had been hit in the head by shrapnel. He was sitting up, gawking at Kurt as he closed the small distance. "You okay?" Kurt asked.

"Better than you," Ballard blinked at him.

"Okay Jackson, help me back to Winters, he's the worst. Then Ballard can you help him take Downy outside, just in case." Kurt said trying to keep an even head even as a new jolt of pain shot through him.

Ballard stood up, new fear in his eyes, "In case of what?"

"In case they don't find us for a while."Kurt said evenly. He let Jackson explain to the men about the busted radio as he pulled back the dressing on Winters shoulder. "I have some morphine to help with the pain, do you want me to use it."Winters refused the drugs saying it couldn't hurt much worse. Inwardly he wanted to save what medicine they had for the Doc, his face was ashen, and he was beginning to sweat from the pain. His hands were steady though when he carefully began stitching the wound closed.

"I don't think medics usually kept needle and thread on them," he said watching as Kurt meticulously stitched first the muscles then the skin back together.

"They don't," Kurt agreed, "not usually, but I commandeered some so I could take care of cuts not severe enough to call the choppers in while we were out on patrol." Kurt began telling Winters about the time one of his men was slapped in the head by a wayward branch and they had to call in an evac helicopter for him when it wouldn't stop bleeding, much to everyone's embarrassment. It was a welcome distraction for both; Winters from the stitches and Kurt from his ever-increasing pain.

Once Winters was all stitched back together, Kurt had Steele moved closer, so he could work the same magic on him. Kurt was beginning to get light headed by the time he tied the last stitch. "I can wait Doc, my head isn't bleeding anymore and I think it is time we helped you." Ballard told him placing a firm yet friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Alright but it may take all of you to do this." Kurt said takings deep breath before telling them what to do. "I may pass out from the pain, if I do use the alcohol to clean out the cut, we should probably save the water if we can. Once the leg is set, and clean close the wound. There should be splints in the overhead rack, place one on each side, making sure you wrap it stiffly but not too tight, don't cut off the blood flow.

They lifted Kurt to sit between Winters' legs, and he wrapped his arms crushingly around Kurt's chest. Ballard grabbed Kurt's leg around his knee while Jackson and Steele each grabbed his foot. "On my count," Jackson said, making sure to make eye contact with each man. "One... two...three." On three Winters tightened his hold while the other three pulled until a sicken snap rent the air. Kurt's head swam as the ends of the bones ground against each other. His head slumped back against Winters shoulder. The others exchanged glances.

"Damn," Ballard laughed, "I half expected the bastard to sing the Star Spangled Banner while we set his leg. He is one tough little shit. By the looks of him you wouldn't expect him to last a day, but damn the man has balls."

Jackson shook his head as he reached for the bottle of alcohol and began irrigating the wound. He had seen many wounds in passing, he couldn't help it with his assignment, but this was the first he had seen so close and personal. He did everything Kurt had told him to do while the others helped Winters up so Kurt could have the stretcher to himself for a while. He had never taken such care in a task but after watching the meticulous way Kurt had cared for the others, he tried to emulate it.

Kurt woke several hours later; the sun was dipping below the trees. His leg ached and his head still swam, but all seemed to be well in the downed chopper. They ate a small meal of c-rations, Kurt nibbling what he could stomach of a rice ball. As the sun sank lower before disappearing, Kurt's hope of being discovered that day dived with it. He was reminded of the desperate state they were in when Ballard pulled out his gun and began to sit watch. It wasn't just not being discovered and of starving to death that they had to fear. It was being found by the wrong people that may be worse.


	17. Chapter 17

Blaine rubbed his eyes groggily with his left hand as he came back to the world. He wished he had had one moment to believe that his whole world hadn't changed, but as soon as his mind came back to him, he remembered everything with stunning clarity. He felt empty, like all his insides had been ripped out and he was left a hallow shell. His breath hitched at the thought of Kurt out there in the jungle missing, or worse laying dead his body never to be recovered. Tears began leaking from his eyes before he realized he wasn't alone in his room. An awkwardly cleared throat alerted him to his visitor. Cooper was sitting, still in a suit, in the chair next to his bed.

"Hey squirt." He said leaning forward taking Blaine's hand. "Glad to see you're awake again."Blaine couldn't think of an adequate answer so he just gave a small smile and nod. "The nurse said you had kind of a freak out and they had to take you back to surgery to make sure you didn't do more than pop a few stitches. You okay?"

Blaine cleared his throat before speaking. "Um... Yeah, I guess."

" What happened? They say you had a visitor, but by the time they got you sedated and stable, she was gone. Did Judy break up with you?" Cooper asked the concern on his face genuine.

"Judy's not my girlfriend." Blaine said trying to avoid the real reason for his freak out as Cooper called it. If he voiced it, it would make it real and if he talked about it with Cooper, who couldn't know the full impact of the news; he knew it would offer no comfort.

"You talk about her enough, I just figured..." Cooper said trailing off. He looked away from Blaine before steeling himself not to let the topic drop. "But really, what happened? You can talk to me about anything."

" Not this." Blaine said not meeting Coopers eyes knowing the disappointment he would find there.

Cooper's voice was soft when he spoke again, but firm in its quietness. "I'm not dad, squirt. I know what it's like not feeling like you can be yourself because you are afraid to be shunned. Hell, if I had my way I would have been out there protesting with you, if I had my way a lot of things would be different. So you can tell me anything, I won't tell dad, or anyone if you don't want me to."

" Even if I'm a queer?" Blaine asked before he could think about it. With little prompting, Blaine spilled everything realizing he probably had little to lose at this point. Let them lock him up in the loony bin for years to come, nothing really mattered anymore to Blaine. Cooper for his part listened with rapt attention focusing on his hand Blaine had in a death grip, though Blaine did not realize it. He listened as his kid brother talked about meeting a boy and falling in love and losing the boy first to the draft and now to the jungles of Vietnam. For an hour, he listened to Blaine talk about this boy Kurt until his voice grew hoarse and tired from his nonstop verbal barrage.

When Blaine was finally silent, Cooper found his voice to speak. "Oh, Blaine I had no idea."

Cooper looked at him with world-weary eyes, "what, that I'm a faggot?"

" Well that," Cooper said with a chuckle, "but more that you had been through so much and never said a word. You fell in love man, and that ain't nothing."

" So you aren't going to call the psych ward and have them lock me away?" Blaine asked with too much sincerity for Cooper's liking.

"Nah man, I don't understand it, I'm not really sure how I feel about it; but I figure you're not nuts. Perhaps it is better if you didn't share this with dad, he's already fuming, what with the article and all."

" What article?" Blaine asked confused once more.

Copper rubbed his neck a rare sign of insecurity, "The one they wrote after the... the shooting. It wasn't hard for him to miss something like, 'among those injured Blaine Anderson, English major.' It might not have been the best way to find out that your declared major wasn't law."

The little joy he had received from talking to Cooper vanished. "Shit, how pissed is he?"

"Pissed enough mom is having to talk him down from kicking you out of the house. He is taking small consolation that they didn't report if you were directly involved in the protest or not."

"I was," Blaine interrupted.

Cooper shook his head, "no shit, what the hell did they give you some truth serum or something? You can't seem to keep anything to yourself."

Blaine shrugged his shoulder making him since with pain, "Just tired of lying to everyone I guess."

Cooper left not long afterwards. Neither of his parents visited the rest of the day or the next morning. Judy came by early Wednesday morning spouting apologies for getting him 'involved in this mess' and assuring him his guitar was safe and sound. She held Blaine as he cried about Kurt, her tears dropping unceremoniously on his hair. After Blaine's tears had eased again, she smoothed down his hair and sniffed, "but you shouldn't lose hope, not yet. He's missing that doesn't mean he's dead."

" I know, I just can't believe he's... that he's dead. It doesn't seem real. It can't be real."Blaine babbled.

Judy sighed, "I think you would know, at least deep down if there wasn't anything to hope for."

Blaine decided in that moment that he would be a hopeful optimist, even if he had to force himself. He couldn't bring himself to think about a world without Kurt Hummel in it.

Blaine's reaction to the news of Kurt's disappearance earned him another few days in the hospital, so it was a week after the shooting that he finally made it back to his dorm. He would be taking an incomplete in his classes, unable to write with his right arm still in a sling. He wouldn't be coming back though. After Blaine refused to change his major, his father had adamantly refused to pay for college. His mother had tried to plead his case, but Mr. Anderson would have none of it. He wouldn't even let Blaine back into his house, telling him that if he thought he knew what was best for his life, he had better get to living it on his own. Mrs. Anderson had reluctantly told Blaine that it might be for the best if the two men did not live under the same roof, at least until his father had calmed down. So it was that Blaine was sitting on his bed watching as Cooper packed away his things into boxes to be taken to his house. Mary was more than willing, ecstatic even to take Blaine in, knowing it was a small resistance against the Anderson patriarch.

Blaine leapt from his bed as Cooper reached for the large pile of letters and pictures on his desk. "I'll get those," he rushed to say.

"What are they squirt?" Cooper said giving him a mischievous smile.

Blaine's eyes were wary and his tone cautious enough that Cooper knew he was serious when he replied, "they're from Kurt."

Cooper looked down at the letters, some bound with a ribbon, others held together with rubber bands. His eyes were then drawn to the picture on top of a pile. "Is this him?" he asked.

Blaine stepped behind him to look down at the picture. Kurt was squatting in the dirt his helmet tipped back revealing just a snatch of his now short hair. A bag lay between his legs and it was obvious he had been looking for something. He was looking at the person behind the camera and was laughing at them. Kurt had told him the story. His pal Billings had stolen his camera and told him to look sexy for his girl just before snapping the picture. He hadn't been able to do anything but laugh. Blaine smoothed a finger down Kurt's body a sad smile springing to his face. "Yeah, that's Kurt."

Cooper looked at his brother. He really looked at him. He could see affection and hurt clearly in his eyes. He knew that Blaine was torn up inside by what had happened to Kurt, had seen the tears himself. He also knew that Blaine was trying so hard to keep faith that Kurt would come home. He wanted to tell Blaine again how sorry he was, but knew he wouldn't want to hear it. Instead, he said, "I hope I get to meet him someday soon."

Blaine looked at Cooper relieved, "yeah me too."

Blaine was sitting on the guest bed, reading a book, about the only activity he was allowed to do at this point, with his dominant arm still out of commission. He had retreated more into books, even music couldn't hold his attention for long. Listening to his records, or the radio just made Blaine itch to play, so he whiled away the long hours of solitude while his brother and sister in law were at work reading. He discovered worlds he never knew existed and lost himself in them so he wouldn't have to think about the state of his own world. He didn't listen to the news when Cooper would sit in front of the television at night; he avoided newspapers. He avoided anything that would alert him to news from Vietnam. So he sat in his bed and reading when Mary came in, a pile of letters in her hands.

"Blaine," she said her voice tentative, "a letter came for you."

Before leaving Kent state, he had been sure to forward all his mail. The only person who really ever wrote him had been Kurt, but he thought it better to just in case. He knew from Mary's face two things. One Copper had told her, at least a little of what Blaine had shared; and two, that the letter was not from just anyone, it had to be from Kurt. He stretched his arm slowly towards her. She paused a moment before handing the letter over. "Thanks," he managed to say.

"Do you..." She started, obviously unsure how to handle the situation. "Would you like me to stay?"

Blaine looked up into Mary's anguished eyes, he could see how much she wanted to make things better, and she knew she couldn't. Blaine wanted her to be able to help, but he knew he couldn't bring himself to open the letter and read the words if he had an audience. "No thanks," he told her, trying to ignore how the hurt in her eyes increased.

Blaine sat on the edge of his bed looking at the envelope in his hands. He would have recognized the neat handwriting anywhere, the sight if which usually made his heart leap and dance knowing Kurt had written. Now though, his heart sank and thudded dully against his ribs. This was it; possibly the last letter he would ever receive from Kurt. He ran is hands over the intentions Kurt's pen had created in the paper, tracing each letter, every mark. He memorized the imperfection in the postmark; which letters were incomplete and where the lines hitched before continuing again. He could hear Cooper come home, and a quiet exchange between him and Mary, and the envelope lay still sealed in his hands.

Blaine rose from his bed and latched the door, not wanting to be disturbed, not knowing how long it would take him to will himself to open the envelope to reveal its contents. He sat back on his bed, and picked up the envelope once more. When the light began to fade from the room, he lay the letter in his lap and flicked on the lamp. One more deep breathe he picked the letter up and clumsily ran his finger under the flap. Trying not to think too much more on it, he eased the paper out.

_My dearest B,  
I miss you, I feel an ache all the time because I cannot be with you, but today that ache is so much deeper and I don't know why. I wish I could run away right into your arms. I wish I could leave this all behind and come to you. I long to feel your arms around me and the beat of your heart against mine. I want to taste your lips and know that we are both safe. I miss the happiness I feel whenever you are near. Nothing can compare to the way my heart leaps at the sight of you, how in that moment I feel like anything is possible in this world because you are with me again. I need you to know that no matter what happens here or at home, I will never regret anything between us. The day you stumbled upon our farm looking for help was an important day, it was the beginning of us. Please thank Jeff for not taking proper care of his car for me. _

_You know if you sit and catalog my life, it hasn't been the best. It is not the kind of life that most people dream of. I lost my entire family before I turned 18, I missed out on attending my dream school even after being accepted, not to mention being born in a way society doesn't approve of. But I can't help but feel I have been blessed. Meeting you, loving you, has been the best thing that has happened in my life. Against all odds we found each other, we took a chance and I have never been happier in my life. But now I am here and I feel like maybe it was all a dream. It just doesn't seem real sometimes. When that happiness dims to a small spark, a letter or package will arrive from you and for just that moment I can feel it again. _

_It is a true feat to be able to make someone feel so cherished a world away, and you never fail to make me feel loved and missed and like the most precious thing in the world. Your words, I read them and it almost feels like you are here loving and kissing me, they are truly your gift. Thank you for loving me so. I hope that my words here can make you feel a fraction of the love I feel for you. You know that words aren't my gift; I am better with a paintbrush or pencil, heck even a carving knife is a better was for me to express myself than words. That being the case, I have sent along a sketch I have been working on during my downtime this week. I hope you like it and can see what I mean by it._

_ I love you so much. Just think I am almost half way through my tour, we may be able to do this yet. I can't wait to be back in your arms again, safe and sound. Crap, I have to go, there is an emergency. One of the chopper medics was injured and yours truly has to take his place. So I have to finish up, even though I want to keep writing until my hand falls off. I will be back soon, and please don't worry about me. I should be safe and sound back in my bunk in a couple of hours. God, I don't want to end this letter. I want to keep writing and feeling close to you for a while longer. I love you, I love you, I love you. I want to say it as much as I can before I have to go. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, and I am so lucky you love me to. I love you more than anything else in this entire world. Damn, duty calls. Until I am safe in your arms again, I am sending all my loving to you. _

_Yours in heart, mind, body, and soul,_

_K_

Blaine sat shaking on his bed and let the letter fall from his hands. It hurt to read the words of longing and love written moments before Kurt would disappear, to read how little danger Kurt thought he was in. Blaine cried out in renewed despair, the sound rising out of him without warning. More tears followed. Blaine wasn't sure how Judy was able to reign hers in for so long when even the mere thought of Kurt could bring Blaine's to the surface. Blaine wasn't just crying; great body aching sobs wracked his frame, making his sore shoulder ache and his chest burn with the force of them. He was unaware of the words that flew from his mouth as he rocked his body trying to find some form of comfort in a cruel world. He was unmindful of the frantic pounding at the door, or Coopers panicked calls trying to get Blaine to admit him. Blaine was lost to his grief that he had been trying valiantly not to face, since making his mind up to hold out hope. He needed to know how Kurt was; needed to know one way or another if he would ever see Kurt again. This limbo of not knowing whether to hope or grieve was slowly etching away at him in his week home but he hadn't acknowledged it until now.

A splintering of wood sent Cooper careening into the room. He rushed straight to Blaine and unmindful of his injuries pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, holding him tight as if the action could keep Blaine from falling apart. Blaine couldn't hear the words Cooper was saying, not over his racing thoughts and continued cries. He wanted to fight against the hold, they weren't the arms he wanted to have around him, he only wanted Kurt, he needed Kurt. He wanted to fight, but he found he had not strength for that, he only had the energy to finally release his pent up feeling.

It broke Cooper's heart to hear Blaine wailing, "It's not fair, I love him, I need him, Kurt." Over and over again. all he could do was hold him and whisper "I know" hoping Blaine would calm down enough to talk to him. For over an hour he sat holding Blaine as tightly as he could, as Blaine voice grew hoarser from overuse. When Blaine's voice was quiet and his body only shaking with silent sobs once more, Cooper finally spoke. "Blaine, it's okay, everything is going to be alright."

"I don't think it is Coop." He managed to say, halfheartedly pushing at his brother to be released. Once Cooper let go, Blaine rolled over on his side, no caring that it put too much weight on his shoulder, at least the pain made him feel something beside the empty space Kurt had left in his heart.

"Blaine," Cooper said with a sigh, feeling completely out of his element. "I know you want to hope that he is still out there alive. But it has been two weeks and I don't know how much of a chance he has out there. Maybe it's best if…"

"No," Blaine said forcefully, summoning all his remaining strength. "I can't give up Cooper. I just… I can't."

"Alright," Cooper sighed again, "Get some sleep." Cooper lingered at the door watching Blaine's back moving with each breath. He wanted so much to take all this hurt away from him; he wanted to take the pain and suffering away. He knew that he couldn't though, only Kurt could do that, or time. And deep down inside, Copper was sure time was the only possible answer.

Once Blaine heard the thump of the door against the frame, he gathered the envelope and letter in his hands again. Turning onto his back, he pulled another piece of paper out. With determination, he unfolded it to reveal the drawing Kurt had mentioned in his letter. It was two figures, entwined together facing each other, naked. The detail was exquisite, Blaine marveled at how well Kurt was able to capture each of them from memory alone. Surrounding them were tangling vines and tall trees reminiscent of the clearing back at the farm. However, instead of just being in the clearing, the clearing was encroaching on them, entwining with them, protecting them.

Blaine propped the letter against his alarm clock and traced each line with his eyes until the drifted closed and he fell into a fitful sleep. Blaine stayed in his room for the next week writing frantically. He found Mary's typewriter and peck away endlessly with his left hand. He refused any visitors and only left the room to grab a quick bite to eat. He wrote of how his and Kurt's life could be if things had been different. He wrote of their love and happiness. He wrote until he thought he would collapse. It was nothing like the novels Kurt had hidden in the barn loft; there was no shame, just pure unadulterated love.

He had just typed the last word when he heard raised voices drifting down the hall. He tried to ignore them and focus instead on the small bit of happiness he felt for having completed his work. The words however couldn't be ignored, and he couldn't decide how he was to react when he heard , "Mrs. Hudson, I think it best if you leave. I don't think Blaine needs to be disturbed at this time."

He slowly stood and made his way closer in time to hear Mrs. Hudson say, "the found him."


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt sat fiddling with the wires in his hands. They shook as he tried to connect the two ends together. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his arms and concentrated on holding his hands as still as possible. Try as he might, his hands still shook. He knew that he was getting sick, but he also knew that he didn't have the resources to help himself. He needed medicine, and he just didn't have any. He took a little comfort in the fact that his leg didn't seem to be infected, and they had been taking their malaria pills, as they should. Still after almost three weeks with little food and water, he knew that his body was fighting to stay alive.

So far none of the others had been showing signs of anything other than malnourishment and dehydration. Kurt was the only one who was sick. He knew though that if they went on for much longer that would no longer be the case. Their water supply was almost gone and so was the little amount of food they had with them. They couldn't survive much longer out here.

Kurt knew this and so he continued to try and work, even though his hands shook with fever and his eyes were having problems focusing. The light was dimming and he knew that he needed to hurry if he wanted to accomplish anything else with it before the light left again.

They had hunkered down in the downed chopper for days before they realized the army wasn't going to find them, if they were even looking. They would hear choppers in the distance on occasion, but never near enough to even think of trying to flag them down. They talked about building a fire, but the idea was soon dismissed with fear of drawing the wrong attention to themselves. They knew that whoever had shot them down couldn't have been too far from where they crashed, and they did not want to be found by them. They knew if they were, they would either be held prisoner or shot on sight.

When it was decided that it would be too dangerous to light a signal fire, Kurt began thinking. He knew if they could get the radio working, they could call for help. First he had Ballard take him out to check the battery and the choppers engine. Everything seemed to be working fine. He then disengaged the damaged propellers and began working on his plan. That was over two weeks ago and Kurt was still trying to get the radio repaired. He knew it was a long shot but it was their only hope.

All day, Kurt would sit working on the radio and checking on the others' health. At night while Ballard, Winters, Steele and Jackson would take turns keeping watch, Kurt would lie awake and let his mind drift to Blaine. He knew Blaine had to know he was missing at least, he just hoped that was all he was told. He couldn't bear the image of Blaine believing he was dead. Kurt would quietly cry until his body would produce no more tears. Kurt had to make it home to Blaine, so he worked even when his mind started to become fuzzy with sickness and hunger.

"Hey man, I think you should lay down," Jackson told him, placing his hand gently on Kurt shoulder.

Kurt shivered from the touch, his body too weary to produce a proper jolt from the surprise touch. He shook his head, "No I can work for a few minutes, and the light isn't gone yet."

Jackson looked him in the eyes, his face dark and serious. "If you don't rest and eat something, you aren't going to make it through the night. We need you, Doc. Why don't you tell me what to do and I will do it while you eat a bite."

The rice balls were long gone, and he only had a few more spoonfuls of peanut butter left in his jar. They only had two unopened tins of c-rations, but Kurt wouldn't touch those no matter the protests the others threw. He quietly told Jackson what he was trying to do as he savored the one spoon of peanut butter and small sip of water he allowed himself. Jackson had just finished securing the final wire when Kurt passed out.

The night passed with one man keeping watch, one sleeping, and one trying to cool Kurt down with rags soaked in alcohol. The Chopper was quiet, but all occupants exchanged looks in the dark, worried about their brave friend.

The sunlight piercing his eyes woke Kurt the next morning, his head pounding with it. He groaned, but stopped short when he heard a new noise, one he hadn't heard in three weeks time; the static of a radio.

He vaguely heard Jackson relaying their possible location as he looked around to see the others gathered around him all with anxious looks on their faces. Ballard glanced over his shoulder then and caught Kurt's eye.

"You did it Doc, you finally fixed it." He said with a tired smile.

Kurt tired to form a smile before he drifted out of consciousness again.

Jostling woke Kurt next, He tried to lift his heard to see what was going on only to see Billings above him, his focus intent on the area ahead of him. Kurt could hear a chopper whirling in the distance. "What…" Kurt croaked out.

"Hey Doc, we got you now." Billings told him when he looked down. Kurt tried to say more but Billings hushed him. "Hey, it's okay now, you're going home."

"Home, Blaine… I need Blaine." Kurt said through his haze patting his helmet that was now lying on his chest.

"Who?" Billings asked.

Tears sprang to Kurt's eyes, "I need my Blaine, my beautiful Blaine. I need him." Billings had by then sat Kurt's stretched down waiting for the others to be loaded into the waiting transport. Kurt was clumsily patting his helmet. Billings reached down and pulled Blaine's picture out of the band inside. He looked at the curly haired man and understanding hit him. This was B that Kurt always talked about. He knew no one could ever know of this.

"Yes, you will go home to B. Now I have all your things tucked away and I will send them home to you, just tell me where. And keep B close to your heart, best not speak of him now." He whispered to Kurt while pulling out a notepad he always kept in his pocket. He quickly jotted down the address Kurt mumbled to him before slipping both the notepad and picture back in his pocket.

"Remember now, think of B, but best not talk about it. You get better, Doc."


	19. Chapter 19

"They found him." The words nearly made Blaine collapse to the floor. He barely held himself together enough to close the distance between him and the pair in the entryway. His heart beat out a frantic rhythm of hope and anxiety, the world lost all senses but the sight of the tear stained woman in front of him. He could see her mouth moving, her posture firm and unrelenting. She had determination written all over her features. They turned to look at him; kind worried filled eyes on Mrs. Hudson, a resigned expression on Cooper. The world seemed to explode with the silence as they stared at him.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked. He couldn't form all his thoughts into a coherent sentence, so he focused on the important things. Kurt, the most important thing.

Mrs. Hudson approached him cautiously, throwing a questioning look over her shoulder at Cooper who gave a small nod. She gingerly took his hands in her and he immediately thought the worst. "They found him yesterday morning," she began.

"Alive?" Blaine asked his voice breaking thinking otherwise. He didn't want to think it, but he knew it was a possibility, one that left him sick. He didn't want to ask but he had to know.

"Yes, alive. For now. They say he is stable."

Blaine's mind went into over load. He wasn't sure what she meant by for now, but Kurt was alive and that gave him unimaginable hope. He had to know more. "Tell me everything."

Carole led him over to the couch and sat knee to knee with him. Copper lingered to the side, not wanting to leave his still fragile brother with this stranger that had more power over him than she knew. Cooper also wanted to know what Kurt's fate was. For someone he had never met, this man held more influence over his life and family than anyone else in this moment did.

"I don't know much. They found them yesterday morning, well morning Vietnam time anyway. He has a broken leg, but Blaine, he's really sick."

Blaine's heart leapt then plummeted. A broken leg wasn't so bad, but Kurt was sick? "What do you mean sick?"

Mrs. Hudson sighed, wiping away a lone tear that escaped her tired eyes. "They're not sure. At least the men sent to my house weren't. They only know that he is dehydrated, malnourished and has a high fever, is unconscious but stable."

Blaine leapt to his feet, "where is he? We have to go see him; I have to see that he's okay."

Cooper stood with him; ready to catch his little brother when he couldn't just run to the person he cared for. Carole however just grabbed his hand and tried to ease him back down to the couch. "We can't Blaine," she said her voice calm but motherly. "He's in a military hospital in Japan. Even if he was closer, I don't know if they would let you in to see him."

"But he's..."

"Blaine, I don't care what he is to you, they don't care, it means nothing to them and they wouldn't let you set foot in the door. Sometimes we just have to wait, even when that is the hardest thing to do." She said, giving him a knowing look but not expounding on what she meant. "I will call when I know more. Your friend Judy should be here soon. When she told me where you were, I made her promise to come be with you soon. Keep you friends close, and if you are a religious man pray. That is all we can do for now."

Mrs. Hudson left not long after. Cooper held Blaine as he cried once more, but for once, they were not wholly unhappy tears. Yes, Blaine grieved that he would not be allowed to visit Kurt, because to anyone else what they had at best didn't matter and at worst was a sick deprived thing. Above all though, Kurt was alive. He was no longer a lost soul out in the jungle never to be seen again. He was found and safe, and while sick was stable and being cared for. For once Kurt was being healed instead of trying to piece together those he thought of as friends.

Time seemed to creep by, news of Kurt's recovery was slow coming. Mrs. Hudson kept her word and called when she would receive a new update on Kurt's condition; he was healing slowly but was weak. He was slowly regaining weight. He was getting better. She like Blaine just wanted to hear from Kurt himself, it wouldn't seem real until then.

Blaine, for his part was healing too. His shoulder was almost ready healed and his soul was mending but for the hole Kurt's silence left. He was regaining the hope he had lost and could almost call himself happy once more. Happiness came a little closer when he retrieved the mail one afternoon, over two weeks after Carole Hudson's visit. Sitting on top of the pile was a familiar looking envelope.

_My dearest most beautiful B,  
Oh how I thought I would never be able to write those words again. A lot of my time here had been spent afraid that I would never get to see your beautiful face again, but none quite like this. I was sure we were going to die out there. You saved us; you really did, in more ways than one. Who knew that a jar of peanut butter could be so important, but it really helped keep me and the others alive, or at least from starving to death. But even more than that, you were the thought that made me fight so hard for our rescue. I couldn't hurt you like that; I knew I needed to come back to you, so I worked to make it so._

I don't know how much you know of our ordeal, but before our helicopter was shot down, we lost all radio communication. That was our only hope of rescue, so we worked to fix it. It was hard and in the end, Jackson succeeded. They say I have been here almost three weeks and honestly, I don't remember most of that. Two of the guys who came in with me, Ballard and Jackson, have already been sent stateside. I guess when the army loses you it earns you a discharge. Steele and Winters, the other two guys who survived leave tomorrow to go home. I wish I could say I was going with them, but the doctors say I will probably be here another week.

I've been sick, they are still not sure what I had, but they figure some virus or bacteria took advantage of my weakened state. Whatever it was, I am finally feeling almost human again. They want me to gain a bit more weight. It has been a fight since I woke up for them not to try and feed me meat. I have been getting a lot of eggs and cheese though, and I swear half the things they give me are fried. They really want me to gain some weight. They laughed at me when I told them I didn't want to see another jar of peanut butter again. I wasn't really joking. I am grateful I had it but when all you eat for days is a spoonful of peanut butter, it loses its appeal. So I will forever sing my praises to the stuff, as long as it stays far away from me. 

_It was a horrible ordeal, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy; but I'm coming home. I am really coming back to you. I may be worse for the wear but I get to be with you now. Yes, the world is still not perfect, things will never really be easy for us in the world, but I get to be back by your side. I don't want to leave you again. I could get a house or apartment somewhere in Kent, or maybe buy some land on the outskirts. Now that the army is almost done with me I don't have to be afraid, I could go to school or move anywhere I want; but I want to be with you. If it is what you want. _

_Think on it. Don't worry about writing me; hopefully I will be long gone from this place before a letter would arrive. I love you. I wish there were better words to express my feelings, but since that is all I have I will just say I love you. _

_All my loving, _

_K_

Blaine waited with bated breath for his phone to ring. Judy was even more of a constant presence as they waited for word of Kurt return. Carole had promised to relay any information on Kurt's status the moment she heard, but all Blaine could do was wait for her call. Cooper watched as Blaine slowly packed most of his belongings, his heart heavy with the thought he was losing his brother once more.

In the weeks he had stayed with Cooper and Mary, they had slowly rebuilt their relationship that years and familial pressure had eroded. It became clear to Cooper as each day passed that Blaine was stronger than he ever thought about being. His own small rebellions were nothing compared to Blaine's willingness to risk all for his own happiness. Cooper envied him for his strength to go after what he wanted. In his younger days before Copper had understood what his duties were, he dreamed of going to Hollywood to be an actor. He knew now, that those dreams were foolish, but seeing Blaine go after his dreams made Cooper think.

Blaine was sitting at his desk, staring at the manuscript before him, pondering what to do with it. The house was quiet, Mary having already retired to bed, and Cooper slaving away in his office over yet another case for the Anderson firm. Blaine flipped the pages scanning them, half reading, half remembering the words that had poured out of him. Finally, he set them aside; he didn't need the fantasy when the reality would be returning to him soon. In the distance, he heard a phone ring.

Blaine listened carefully trying to determine who would be calling so late at night, trying not to let hope take over only to be disappointed. He heard footsteps thumping down the hall, towards him, the weight and rhythm identifying then as Cooper's. Blaine turned in his chair, hoping they would stop in front of his door; they did. Blaine was across the room opening the door scarcely before Cooper could finish rapping. Blaine's face was expectant as he asked, "Kurt?"

Cooper smiled but it was tinged with sadness. "His flight should arrive tomorrow afternoon in Columbus. I have all the information Carole gave me here." He said handing a piece of paper to his younger brother. He took a deep breath before continuing, "I know you are not cleared to drive yet, so I would be happy to drive you, if you'll let me."

Blaine leapt at Cooper, throwing his good arm around his neck, hugging him fiercely.

Blaine lay awake that night, unable to sleep. After a year of separation, he was finally going to see Kurt again. He didn't care that his first moments would be shared with Mrs. Hudson and his brother, he just wanted to feel Kurt in his arms again, to know for himself that he was real and alive and his. He lay in bed, fingering the details of the watch Kurt had given him so long ago. As day crept ever closer, Blaine finally drifted off to sleep.

Blaine was surprised the next morning when Cooper called in sick to work. As far as Blaine knew he had never do so in the years he had worked for their father. Mr. Anderson saw it as a form of weakness and never allowed his sons to call in sick from school. "Better to be sent home and show your dedication than to stay at home and have it questioned," he always used to tell them. When Blaine asked Cooper how their father had reacted, he merely shrugged and said, "I think it's time Dad learned to be a little disappointed sometimes."

Mary hovered around the background as Cooper and Blaine loaded everything in Cooper's car. Blaine was leaving a few things behind, but nothing of consequence; they all knew he would not be coming back, not for anything close to a permanent basis. Once the car was loaded, Blaine turned to see his sister in law with tears in her eyes.

"Go be happy Blaine," she said pulling him into one of her gentle hugs. Blaine didn't know what to say so he just kissed her on the cheek and carefully got in the car. He sat fiddling with the paper in his hands showing Kurt's flight information as he waited for a Cooper to bid his wife goodbye. The long ride to the airport was filled with silence.

They made their way inside and Blaine spotted Mrs. Hudson standing back from the gate, waiting, hands wringing each other as she scanned the crowds. Kurt's flight should be landing any minute. She looked over and saw them, a true smile for once on her face. She was waving them over so she missed what was going on behind her. A familiar figure caught his eye. It wasn't Kurt not yet, but the long brown hair on a petite frame was unmistakably one from his past. She had flowers in her hair and a cardboard sign hanging by her side. Blaine couldn't read it before she was moving. He followed her with his eyes and in doing so caught his first look at Kurt. He was just entering the building, his uniform drab, wrinkled from so many hours of travel as it hung on his frame. He was leaning heavily on a pair of wooden crutches, his left leg bound in a cast. His skin was pale, more so than normal and without the shine of life Blaine was used to seeing. His eyes were tired as they began to scan the space in front of him before widening in shock. Before Blaine could move, the girl he had been introduced to as Rachel was in Kurt's face. The words spewing from her mouth seemed to echo across the walls. "You're not wanted here, baby killer!" Her spit then painted Kurt's face as tears welled in his eyes.

Blaine rushed forward as did Cooper and Mrs. Hudson. Kurt just stood there, unmoving, not even to wipe the spit from his face. Blaine grabbed Rachel's arm spinning her to face him. "You know him, you know Kurt, and he is not a killer." He yelled.

She seemed to take a good look at the man she had accosted and recognition lit in her eyes, only to turn cold once more. "He wears the uniform; he's just a baby killer like the rest of them." Before anyone else could say a word, Rachel stalked away. Silence filled the space as the three of them watched her go in shock. Then it hit Blaine, Kurt was right there. He spun around taking him in properly. Before he could stop himself, he gently wiped the spittle from Kurt's face before bringing him into as tight if a hug as he could with one arm.

Kurt gripped him tightly back so hard it made Blaine's shoulder ache, and his crutches clattering to the floor but he didn't care. Kurt was here, in his arms, real, alive and his. He felt tears wet his collar as his own trekked down his cheek. Unintelligible muttering filled the small space between them, too relieved to be together to stay silent, yet too overcome to form proper words. In their private bubble they didn't notice the stares they earned from those passing them on the way to their own destinations; nothing mattered but the other and being together once again.

After a few minutes just watching the two men in front of her, Carole could hold back no longer. "Kurt?"

Kurt's head whipped up, as if just now noticing there were other people there for him. It took all his effort to pry himself away from Blaine, neither wanting to let go but knowing they had to. Carole clutched Kurt to her, no different than any mother would hold onto their child in the same circumstance. Blaine longed to reach out and just touch Kurt again, but held back and looked over at his brother. He was surprised to find his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Seeing Blaine looking at him he drew him into his side without a word. The two brothers held each other as Mrs. Hudson inspected Kurt, sweeping her eyes up and down his frame. After a long while, she suggested they all go out for dinner.

As they made their way out of the airport, Blaine introduced Kurt to his brother. Kurt raised a questioning eyebrow to Blaine as he shook Cooper's hand. Blaine hated parting from Kurt even for the short car ride, but knowing he was going to try and persuade her to let them take Kurt home to the farm, helped to ease the pain. They followed the Hudson's car to a small diner.

At the table, Blaine and Kurt sat as close as possible while out in public; their hands brushing and lacing together under the table. Neither adult missed the action, but nothing was said. Blaine thought he caught the curve of a smile on Mrs. Hudson's face a time or two. They made polite conversation as they devoured the food in front of them. Carole tried to talk Kurt into coming back home with her, and Blaine would have been lying if he would have said that his heart didn't spend up when Kurt politely refused saying he wanted to go back to the farm. Without missing a beat, Cooper offered to drive them. Kurt cautiously agreed.

They sat in the back seat, talking quietly as Cooper drove. "What happened to you?" Kurt finally asked the question dying to get out since he first laid eyes on Blaine.

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly within his left hand. He had been glad to avoid the topic so far and was not of the mind to talk about it now. However, he knew he had to. "Um, I was shot?"

Kurt's eyes widened, as he demanded to know more. The story took most of the drive back to the farm with all the questions Kurt was asking him. It was clear in his eyes that he wanted to grab Blaine again and hold him, make sure that he was really safe. Blaine wanted to tell him that he could that Cooper would understand, but he wasn't naive enough to take Cooper's tentative acceptance as more than that. He truly wasn't sure how Cooper would act at another long hug, or more. It was like a slow torture, sitting in the back seat with Kurt and not being allowed to touch.

It was almost dark by the time they instructed Cooper to pull onto the driveway from the dirt road. Earlier in the day the change to the property would have been evident far sooner. As they bumped up the driveway both boys craned their neck for a glimpse of the dark farmhouse in the distance. It was dark no longer though, light shone brightly through the window, too brightly to be produced by the old kerosene lanterns or candles they were used to in the old house. "What?" Kurt asked quietly, unsure what had happened to the simple house he had left.

Something must have alerted the occupants of the house to their presence because before Cooper's car could come to a halt three figures stood on the porch. Puck stood next to Quinn who was holding little Beth's hand, all three were looking curiously at the car in front of them. Puck's hair was shorter now, barely brushing his ears; he wore blue work pants and a plain white T-shirt. He looked so much older it surprised Blaine. He felt a jolt of guilt when Puck's eyes lit up at the sight of Kurt emerging from the car. He hadn't talked to either of them since visiting to gather ingredients for the care package. He wasn't sure what they had heard in the last few months.

Puck ran down and swept Kurt off his feet, sending his crutches clattering once more to the ground. He spun him around whooping, "Hot Damn, you're alive!" It was the type of greeting Blaine had wished to give, the type he had dreamed of for months. Kurt wobbled unsteadily once Puck placed him back down once more. Blaine was by his side in a breath, arms around his waist to steady him.

"What happened to the house?" Kurt asked his eyes scanning the yard.

"We thought you were dead and all you have to talk about it the damn house?" Puck asked, his words harsh but there was no venom in his voice.

"It's just... it's just so... different." Kurt said softly tears evident in his voice.

Quinn picked up Beth and slowly walked down the stairs towards them. "Sometimes things have to change whether we want them to or not. But we kept your room just the way you left it."

Kurt wasn't looking at his friend; however, he seemed mesmerized by the little girl in her arms. He whispered her name and reached a hand out towards her. Beth didn't know him though and pulled back, clinging to her mother.

Kurt looked crestfallen, "I think... I think I want to go to bed now. It's been... I'm just so tired."

Blaine watched as Kurt cautiously walked up the steps and out of sight. Puck helped Cooper unload the boxes into the barn, not wanting to disturb Kurt. Blaine watched from the steps, using all his will power not to follow after Kurt, not yet. Once his things were safely in the barn, Blaine bid his brother goodbye with the promise of keeping in touch. As his car was thumping back down the drive, Blaine hastily took his leave of the others and entered the house.

Everything was different from the first time he had entered the house. The walls were painted white, and gauzy curtains now hung from the windows. Neat furniture lined the walls of the living room now. The stairs were no longer a wonder to behold as you ascended them. It was no longer the free spirited place Blaine once knew. Now it was just a house.

He knew Kurt's door, not by sight, but only by placement. Carefully he opened the door. He let out a breath he had been holding when the familiarly painted walls greeted him. His breath caught though when he saw Kurt curled up on the bed crying in earnest. Blaine crawled in bed behind him, clutching him with his one good hand. He whispered softly i his ear, "I have you, everything will be okay now."

Instead of answering, Kurt rolled over capturing him in a long awaited kiss. Tears still leaked down his face, wetting both their cheeks, but their lips moved together, tongues exploring and hands gripping. Kurt pulled back, "I could have lost you and I had no idea. Everything is so different. Please say we're okay."

Blaine smoothed a hand across his cheek. "Hey, you didn't lose me, and I didn't lose you. And we are more than okay, we are together and there is nothing better than that. The world may change around us, but I will never stop loving you Kurt Hummel. I spent too long away from you and that will never happen again if I have my say. I love you."

Kurt nodded with him, as if he were trying to convince himself that everything was truly all right. "I love you." He said before kissing Blaine once more. Quietly they undressed each other in the candle light. Bare skin brushing bare skin. They took in the sight of each other. Kurt ran his hands through Blaine's now longer locks. Blaine fingered the shorter fringe of Kurt hair. Kurt helped take Blaine's sling off; he gently unwrapped the bandage, and took in the now pinked scar the bullet and surgery left in their place. He kissed gently at the skin. When they finally moved back lay on the bed, they held on to each other. Hands still brushed and kisses were stolen, but they mainly just revealed in the fact that the other was there safe in their arms.


	20. Chapter 20

A sharp pain to his shin woke up Blaine. It only took him a moment to figure out its source. Kurt was thrashing on the bed beside him, muttering half-formed words in his sleep. Blaine calmed his anxiety enough to gather Kurt into his arms. "Hey, I've got you," Blaine whispered into the darkness. He could feel the moment Kurt jerked awake in his hold. His breathing was erratic, and at first he tried pushing Blaine away.

"Hey, I've got you everything is alright," Blaine tried again. Kurt was still stiff in his arms.

"No, it's not," Kurt rasped.

Blaine kissed his forehead gently, hoping to calm Kurt, make him relax. "Yes, it is. Your safe, I'm safe, everyone is alright."

"But they're not," Kurt choked, his voice heavy with tears. "I couldn't... I can't..."

"Can't what?" Blaine asked anxiety building in his chest once more.

"Save them all." Kurt cried before burying his face in Blaine's chest.

In an instant, Blaine understood. For Kurt the war wasn't over, he was still haunted, may always be haunted by those he wasn't quick enough, or were too far gone to be saved. To make matters worse, Blaine knew there was not a damn thing he could do to make it magically go away. He held Kurt tighter to him as tears snake their way down his chest. "You tried Kurt, always tried." Kurt cried harder at the words. All Blaine could do was whisper words of comfort and love into the darkness and hope that Kurt heard. He just wanted things to be okay again.

The sky began to lighten outside and Kurt roused himself from Blaine's arms. "We should help, I want to help." Kurt murmured.

Blaine helped Kurt dress before Kurt rewrapped Blaine's shoulder and dressed himself. The house was still quiet as they made their way back through the much-changed house. The kitchen light was on and they discovered Puck eating a plate of eggs at the new kitchen table. Everything in here was changed too. A new electric oven replaced the beautiful antique stove and a new fridge sat where the icebox used to be. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was painted a gleaming white. Puck looked up at their entrance, "hey, what are you guys doing up so early."

"I want to help with the chores, I know I won't be as fast as I used to, and i will need some help but I want to get back into my routine." Kurt told him in an unfamiliar hesitant voice.

Puck looked uncomfortable for a minute, rubbing his neck and taking a drink form his coffee cup before speaking. "Um, we'll there is really no need..."

"I want to... I need to." Kurt interrupted him.

Puck looked at Kurt with sad eyes, "no man, I mean there really isn't a need. There are no morning chores." Before He could explain further, Kurt rushed out of the room as fast as his crutches would allow. Blaine fought the urge to go after him; he needed to know what was going on.

"What the hell man?" He asked rounding on Puck who was still staring at the place where Kurt had disappeared.

He turned to Blaine and sighed. "I had to take care of my family."

"And what having an endless supply of milk and eggs made that impossible in some way? Providing fresh vegetables and eggs for them was too much work?" Blaine yelled.

"A little bit yeah," Puck yelled back. He took a deep breath before continuing calmer. "I had to find a job; we had no money coming in, what did you expect me to do? Before, there was always Kurt's art to help with cash flow, but with him gone and me stuck here... it worked for a while, but it just wasn't enough. We were struggling. I got a job right before Christmas. After the lottery, I drew 279; I knew I was safe from the draft. I didn't need to hide anymore. So, I went out and found a job. I'm doing construction. I leave here early, work my ass off all day and it is almost dark by the time I come home. There just wasn't any time. Quinn tried for a while, but we just couldn't do it. A friend of mine from work, helped me fix the place up, taught me how to do the wiring. It's another skill to have; I can make more money, do more. Quinn is working for a seamstress in town, she can do that here now. We have a nice life and I can provide for my kid."

Blaine was a little shocked to find out Puck was Beth father, but didn't want to focus on that fact at the moment. "But Kurt..." he couldn't finish his thought and just looked at Puck sadly.

Puck gave him a sad smile, "I honestly didn't think he would make it back. I wasn't trying to hurt him, I just wanted a good life for my family."

Blaine didn't respond just walked out of the house to find Kurt. He searched the yard and the barn before making his way out to the clearing where the garden once stood. Kurt was sitting in the unturned soil chunking dirt clods moodily. "Hey," Blaine greeted hoping not to startle him.

Kurt turned to him with sad eyes. "Everything has changed," he whispered just loud enough for Blaine to catch. "I spent so long wanting to come home to you, to come back here and... And nothing is the way it's supposed to be."

Blaine's heart sank as Kurt trailed off looking away from him again. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was part of Kurt's disappointment. Trying to ignore the hurt welling up inside of him, he closed the space between the two and sat heavily beside Kurt on the hard ground. "I'm sorry," he said, hoping his feeling weren't clear in his voice.

Kurt looked at him confused, "why would you be sorry? You didn't do anything wrong."

Blaine could feel the tears prickling at his eyes, but did his best to stay them. "You said nothing was as it's supposed to be... I just thought maybe..."

Kurt grabbed his hand but didn't look at him. "Not you, it's everything else."

They sat out there until the sun was fully in the sky.

They stayed at the farm, even though to them nothing felt right. They couldn't even venture into the loft, which Puck had assured them was just the way Kurt left it, neither able to navigate the ladder. Quinn tried to engage them during the day, to talk about everyday things, but Kurt seemed to distance himself more the more she tried to act as if nothing had changed. Kurt made a few attempts to play with Beth, but she still shied away from anyone that was not her parents. In the end, they spent most of their time in the clearing silently sitting as time passed. Kurt seemed to withdraw further into himself, talking less and less, even to Blaine. About a week after arriving at the farm, a large box was delivered bearing Kurt name.

Blaine saw him tentatively open the box and watched him curiously. He saw his breath hitch as he removed an envelope and peered inside the box. Blaine took a careful step over to him, ready to be shooed away. Instead, Kurt grabbed his hand and pulled him even closer. Inside the box was a stack of familiar letters along with pictures and other memorabilia. With shaking hands, Kurt tore open the letter and read. Blaine couldn't help but read along.

_Doc,_

I've been keeping your stuff for you since the day you didn't return from your mission. I heard talk of sending your things to your emergency contact, some woman I never heard you speak of before and that just didn't seem right to me. It bothered me that they wouldn't send it to Bea, and I couldn't understand why you wouldn't have this gal you talked about like she hung the moon listed as your emergency contact. I knew you well enough to know that you had no living family, so it left me baffled. I figured I would just wait until I was out of this hellhole, finally look at the letters myself, find Bea, and give her your things if I had to. Of course, I always hoped that you would be found, but we both know that you beat the odds on that end.

When they started assembling a rescue team after contact was made, I leapt at the chance to be a part of it. You saved us so many times, I can't count how many times you have run to save one of us not even paying attention to the bullets whizzing past you. I needed to help save you for once.

When we found you, you were in bad shape. You were mumbling, I honestly don't think if I wasn't carrying your head I would have heard or understood you, but I was and I did. You talked about B, but you actually used a name. So I know why some woman you never talked about was your contact, I don't know if it was B's mom or sister or who she was, but I knew why you couldn't list B.

Honestly, at first I didn't know what to think about this information. Back home, there was this one boy. He was smaller than the rest of us, he was quiet too, never said much to anyone. Word was he was a faggot, I don't know who found out, or how they knew. One day I was out with the guys from the football team, we were out drinking, just driving around the town trying to have some fun. We ran into this guy and he smiled at as. Looking back, I'm sure he was just trying to be nice, or maybe he was scared shitless and was hoping if he were nice, we would leave him alone. We didn't. One of the guys, I don't remember who, started yelling at him calling him names. We all joined in. I got a few hits in as well. We beat him up pretty badly and just left him there.

At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, I'd been taught that real men, they don't do the things they said he did. That if he did those things then something must be wrong with him. He couldn't be right in the head, right. Now, I don't know. I don't think I have ever met a tougher or braver man than you. I swear I would beat the shit out of anyone who tried to suggest you aren't a real man. And while I think you might be crazy for turning down bacon and steak, I mean really I don't think you know what you are missing, I don't think you are messed in the head. I've spent enough time with you to know that there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you. But then there is B.

I think I let this bother me for too long. I mean, I was torn man. You were my friend, and I knew if anyone found out, you would be discharged or disappear. I've heard of it happening. One day a guys at boot camp, the next he is gone and no one can tell you where or why. You don't deserve that man. So I think, it just doesn't matter. You never tried to pull anything over on us, and practically looked disgusted when we had to show you our junk when that rash was going around. So it doesn't matter to me.

I'll keep your secret and wish you a quiet life from now on. Maybe I can look you up when I get home in a few months. Either way, I hope you are happy.

Your friend,

Jerry Billings  
  
Kurt gave a sad smile as he finished the letter, and Blaine couldn't help but pull him in his arms. "You really are the bravest man I know," he whispered in his ear.

Kurt continued to pull away though. It got to so he didn't talk to anyone, but for maybe a few words here or there. He never seemed to mind Blaine's presence, but he avoided contact more and more. Even in bed at night, he would roll away as soon as he thought Blaine was asleep. Blaine could hear him curl in on himself, but knew better than to press the issue. Most nights Kurt woke Blaine up in the throes of a nightmare. Only then would Kurt allow himself to relax into Blaine's embrace, too tired and scared to keep a wall up any longer.

It was with a kind of relief that Blaine climbed into Cooper's car on the morning of his last doctor's appointment. Kurt had to travel to Cleveland to go to the VA to have his cast removed so he had left much earlier with Quinn and Beth. As soon as Kurt's appointment was set, Blaine had made his own to have what he hoped was his own last doctors visit.

Cooper looked over at his little brother, concern clear on his face. "How are you holding up squirt?"

It was as if his own damn had broken and Blaine spilled all his worry and frustration on Cooper. For his part, Cooper listened intently, trying not to let the image of his little brother curled up with another man in bed shade the story he was being told. "I just... he is so sad and he used to be this wonderfully positive person and I don't know how to get him back." Blaine concluded his face buried in his hands.

"Well, he has been through a lot." Cooper began, to sure what to say. He had never dealt with anything of the sort, so instead of personal experience; he began speaking from the heart. Saying what he would do if it were Mary who seemed so broken. "I think you just need to be there for him. Maybe try to get him to do the things he used to love. From what you've told me he has always like taking care of people and things, and now he doesn't have that to focus on. Maybe he needs something to care for. Or maybe his art. Or, I don't know, tell him how you feel."

When Blaine returned that night, glad to have his own car back, he rushed into the house to find Kurt. Kurt was curled up on their bed, staring at the paintings now lining the wall. "Do you remember that day?" Blaine asked hoping that Kurt would smile or they could sit and reminisce about that day that seemed so long ago. Kurt only nodded and pulled his arms tighter around himself. "I see you are cast free, what did the doctor say?" Kurt merely shrugged. Blaine climbed in bed behind him, kissed his hair and muttered, "I love you Kurt."

Tears filled his eyes when he heard, "I love you too" whispered back.

The next morning Blaine all but forced Kurt up into the loft. He pulled out art supplies and thrust them in Kurt hand with an encouraging smile. Blaine sat and played his guitar, until his shoulder began to ache from the new effort. Kurt just stared at the sketchpad in front of him. Days passed the same way, Blaine playing a nod Kurt staring at the still blank paper. The only response Blaine could get out of him was 'I love you's.' Blaine felt he was slowly losing Kurt each day.

One morning after his shoulder was screaming that it had had enough; Blaine stormed to the ladder. Kurt looked up at him I surprise. Usually when Blaine would stop playing they would just sit up in the loft together, Blaine never left. "I can't keep doing this Kurt. Every day I wait for you to come back to me, but you're still so lost. I want to help you but you keep pushing me away. I love you... I just can't" he could feel the tears threatening to fall so he climbed down the ladder and ran to his car. Blaine drove, ignoring the tears until the finally dried away; but he continued to drive feeling so lost himself.

He didn't know what to do anymore. He couldn't force Kurt to let his feelings out in his art. He couldn't force Kurt to talk. He couldn't really do anything to help at all. He had never felt so useless in all his life. The ache in Blaine's heart was much worse than even when Kurt was MIA, now he was right in front of him but so far gone. He was at his wits end, and the light was beginning to fade from the sky when something caught his eye and an idea began to form.

When Blaine pulled up to the house, it was dark, but he could see a faint light shining from the loft of the barn. He checked to see that his surprise was still safe on the back seat before making his way into the barn. When he peeked over the floor of the loft the sight in front of him made him draw in a quick breath. Kurt was lying awkwardly in front of a large canvas. Materials were strewn all across the floor, obviously thrown about. Kurt's whole body was covered in smears and splotches of paint. On the canvas in front of him was a mess of greens, browns, blacks and reds. In the center of it all two blue eyes, open scared and pleading were just discernible in the disarray. He could see it all, Kurt's anguish, his fear, so clear on the canvas. He felt like he was drowning.

With his heart thudding, he approached Kurt, and shook him gently awake. Kurt's eyes startled open and tears gathered in them as they fell on Blaine. "You're here." He croaked before throwing himself at Blaine.

"Did you think I was_ leaving_ leaving?" Blaine asked feeling like the world's biggest asshole. Kurt just clutched him tighter and nodded. "I wasn't, I just needed to get away and think. I didn't know what else I could do to help. I felt like I was losing you all over again."

"No," Kurt said, trying to pull Blaine even closer, though it was impossible. "I just felt like I was..."

"Drowning?" Blaine asked.

Kurt sighed, "Yes. There is so much in my head and I want to be happy, I want things to be like there were but everything is changed. I've changed. I've seen so much and I won't leave my head, but I don't want to talk about it because I don't want it in anyone else's head. I don't feel like I'm okay."

"You will be." Blaine stated with as much conviction as he could muster. "We will be, but you can't keep pushing me away. You don't have to talk about it, but you have to let me back in. If you want me here, you have to let me in."

Kurt was crying in earnest now, "I want you here, I want you. I love you Blaine. I'm sorry I have been pushing you away."

"I have something for you. I think it might help." Blaine said trying to pick them up off the floor.

Blaine lead them back to his car, but stood in front of Kurt blocking his view inside the vehicle once they got close. "You have always taken care of everyone. I think you need to take care of people at least a little bit. You seemed to be okay in your letters and I think it was because you knew you couldn't break down, you had a job to do." Kurt nodded; amazed that Blaine could know him so well even from afar. "So… I have something for you to take care of, he's all yours." Blaine opened the car door and pulled out a large fluffy puppy.

Kurt's hand was over his mouth when Blaine looked back at him, but he could see a smile creeping up behind it. "A puppy?" he asked eyes brightening for the first time.

"A puppy." Blaine assured handing over the animal until he was filling Kurt's arms.

"I always wanted a dog." Kurt whispered his amazement clear.

Blaine scuffed his toe in the dirt. "I didn't know what to do to help and I was driving around and I saw a sign for St. Bernard puppies for sale. You know they used to be used as rescue dogs and I thought that was what we needed."

"I think so too." Kurt said in all seriousness as he nuzzled his face in the soft fur.

"So what are you going to name him?" Blaine asked.

Kurt was silent for a minute. The puppy turned and began licking his face with vigor making Kurt laugh, a sound that made Blaine's heart race. Kurt rubbed the dog's head one more time before setting his eyes on Blaine once again. He took a deep breath as if he was steeling himself for something. "Doc," he announced with such certainty that Blaine would not even think to argue. Kurt continued however. "When someone needed help that is what they would call most of the time. I keep hearing it over and over in my head. I keep thinking about the ones that I couldn't save. I feel like they are still calling me. They are there every time I go to sleep and I can't get them out of my head. It's like they're haunting me." He looked deeply into Blaine's eyes and Blaine felt as if he could see his soul, all the pain and hurt and haunting memories. "I think I need help. I think you and... Doc could do that. I think I need something else to associate with the word..."

Blaine pulled Kurt into a hug, squishing the dog between them. "I'll help... I'm here...I'll help."

That night Kurt let Blaine hold him again the whole night through with Doc curled beside them.


	21. Chapter 21

Days passed and while in most respects Kurt seemed to be getting better; his eyes were less distant and he did more than stare at his sketchbook now, he still seemed to have a barrier built around him. Blaine tried to be patient knowing Kurt had been through so much, and was beginning to understand, probably more than he had told Blaine about in his letters. It was hard though for Blaine to watch Kurt heal in so many ways while he slowly pulled himself away from Blaine. He resolved himself that he would not push Kurt, he would simply wait for Kurt to come to him.

Blaine ached to do more than hold Kurt through the night. He yearned for more than the few chaste kisses he stole when he just couldn't help himself anymore. Having Kurt here, but unable to touch him like he had grown accustomed to all those months ago, made him feel so much farther away than the months of letter writing did. However, as much as he wanted to lose himself in the ecstasy of Kurt, he never wanted to push Kurt into anything he wasn't ready for. He thought back to the time before they had sex and wondered how long Kurt was ready for more before he knew that Blaine himself was ready. Was it this hard for Kurt to hold back with him waiting for a sign that he was truly ready for more? Blaine knew that if Kurt could do it for him he would gladly do it for Kurt.

As more days passed though, Kurt seemed to be more aggravated by something, his eyes filled with hurt and he began to lash out with his words at the smallest infraction. Blaine didn't know what to do. He had taken to mumbling an apology before kissing Kurt tenderly on the head, and then usually he would excuse himself hoping to give Kurt time to calm down. He missed the tears in Kurt's eyes as he walked away. Blaine didn't know what was going on until one day, Kurt's tear filled voice followed him down the worn path back to the house.

"You don't have to stay with me just because you feel sorry for me. I-if you don't love me anymore, I will understand."

Blaine spun on his heels, he heart hammering somewhere in the region of his belly. "What? Of course I still love you Kurt how can you think that?" He asked still frozen in place, too far away from Kurt.

Kurt's eyes were wet with tears as he answered, "You can't even look at me anymore, let alone touch me. I just... I understand that I am a mess..." His words trailed off but suddenly it all seemed so clear. Kurt thought it was rejection.

In an instant Blaine was by his side, "no, it's not like that. I thought... I thought that you still needed time... I didn't... I didn't want to make things harder for you."

A new fire seemed to fill Kurt eyes, "I may be mess, but I am not broken. I am still here and I want to be here with you. And it's as if since I have been back you have been so afraid to touch me, that I might break. I know I have issues to work through... You told me I can't push you away, will you can't treat me with kid gloves either. You can't treat me like any show of love will leave me broken on the floor. I want you to look at me with passion not compassion; I want desire not sympathy. My heart and my body have ached for you since I left and its only been worse since I got back."

Blaine wanted to agree, but his mouth was busy. Kurt had leapt at him his mouth seeking Blaine's hungrily. As their tongues battled, Blaine felt like his heart was slammed back into place. This was what he had longed for, not just Kurt back in his arms, but knowing for certain he was his. Their hands roved over each other's bodies , their mouths not parting as their hands slid and clutched once memorized places. Clothes were tossed aside haphazardly in a race to have as much skin exposed as possible. Soon they were toppling to the ground, bodies seeking friction and waves of desire pouring off them.

"I have wanted you... so long... I didn't want to push..." Blaine panted. "Please... I need you... I want to feel you..."

Kurt seemed to come to himself then as he pulled his face back to better focus on Blaine. "We can't... I don't have any..."

"I don't care," Blaine almost cried. He didn't care that they were ill prepared. He had waited so long for Kurt. He only had himself to blame for how long it took him to get here, but now that they were he couldn't imagine stopping to run to the house, or god forbid the town for anything. He felt like he was begging when he panted, "I don't care, use spit... I just need you."

"Wait," Kurt cried scrambling to the box of art supplies a few feet away. A cry of triumph a minute later preceded Kurt smiling face beaming back at him. In his fist was clutched a long forgotten jar of Vaseline. Before Blaine could move to meet him Kurt was back by his side once more. Their grins made kissing almost impossible until Blaine's mouth fell open in a moan as Kurt grabbed his cock. It felt like a lifetime since Blaine had felt such pleasure. His own hand for months paled in comparisons to the ecstasy coursing through him at Kurt's touch. As Blaine was lost to the feel, Kurt began to pillage his mouth until Blaine responded with equal enthusiasm. Blaine's mind came back to him long enough to search out with his hand. He ran it slowly down Kurt's body until it grasped around Kurt rock hard member. No one had ever seen this side of Kurt, this was all for him. He had missed seeing Kurt fall apart with pleasure instead of nightmarish memories. He longed to see it again. "Please Kurt..." he practically begged.

This time Kurt didn't need to pause to think, in a moment his hand was slicked and sliding to one of Blaine's most intimate places. Blaine panted under him as Kurt's fingers caressed the dark circle of his ass, the sensation at once all too much but not near enough. It was not like their first time though, no teasing fingers, no slow worship of bodies; almost as soon as they rubbed against his hole a finger breeched it slow and hungry. Blaine could barely catch his breath as Kurt pumped his finger inside him quickly before adding another. The sting they caused made Blaine cry out, not in pain but in pleasure. His noises filled the woods as he urged Kurt on, insisting he not stop. Blaine could feel his body opening to Kurt and felt his body loosen as his gut seemed to tighten in pleasure. "Now... Please Kurt, now!"

Kurt's fingers leaving his body sent an ache through him that he knew only Kurt's cock could fill. He needed this he needed him, and Blaine was not shy with his words concerning this matter. He babbled them nonstop as Kurt slid back to slick himself up for Blaine. His words caught in his throat when Kurt's face was once again hovering over his. Kurt eyes were dark with lust but they sparkled in the late afternoon sun, a smile was on his lips before he leaned down to claim Blaine's once again. As they kissed Blaine could feel Kurt sneaking a hand between their bodies, holding his dick, guiding it until the tip grazed Blaine's open hole. Blaine's hands gripped Kurt ass, silently insisting, pushing him forward as they continued to kiss frantically. As Kurt's cock impaled him, Blaine found himself panting once more against Kurt lips. It had been so long, but this was so familiar and Blaine had dreamed of being like this with Kurt once more for so long.

The pace Kurt set was frantic, a need filling him that Blaine was eager to meet. Each thrust Blaine met driving himself onto Kurt. Even without longing looks and gentle hands, they expressed their feeling clearly. This was love too, the desperate lovemaking of two men apart for too long. It seemed like no time before Blaine felt himself coiling tighter his dick still untouched. He bit into Kurt's pale shoulder as he came in rivulets between them. Kurt continued to pound into him as Blaine lay spent beneath him. When Blaine could finally open his eyes, he found Kurt taking in his features, tears in his eyes moments before his face contorted into a cry of ecstasy and he came deep inside Blaine.

They lay panting together, entwined in each other as Kurt softened inside him, yet they still did not moved from each other's hold. For too long they had kept each other too far away. But no more; so on the hard, hot ground in the middle of the woods they fell to sleep sticky with cum and still connected as one. The world spun around them once more.

A whimper followed by a lapping tongue on his face woke Blaine. Apparently, during their impromptu nap, Doc had awoken and found them. Kurt's heavy weight still pinned Blaine to the ground on top of him, but he had shifted at some point so they were no longer connected. Doc licked their faces with abandon until both were wake and pushing him away so they could sit up.

As soon as they were up right again they fell into each other's arms, this time laughing as the puppy barked and pranced around them clearly ready to play. They quickly dressed and soon Kurt was running down the path chasing and being chased by Doc while Blaine walked behind carrying the box of art supplies. His heart was light seeing the smiles and hearing the clear laughter coming from his lover. For the first time since Kurt's return he didn't just hope, he knew without a shadow of a doubt they would be okay.

Things seemed to get better after that day in the woods; though Blaine knew Kurt was nowhere near back to normal. He was on a whole more subdued, and while he smiled more, they were no longer the carefree smiles he had fallen in love with. Kurt was still haunted by his time in Vietnam, and Blaine feared he may never be rid of that shadow over his life; but Kurt was learning to live with it as well. Blaine would have been happy to always stay in this fantasy bubble they had at the farm. He was surprised then when one night as Kurt crawled into bed after letting Doc back into the room following another bout of enthusiastic lovemaking, when he spoke in a quiet voice, "I think I want to leave the farm."

Blaine's previous sated sleepiness was quickly replaced with alertness tinged with fear. "What, why?" he asked, still not yet eased back into the good place they had found together again.

He could feel Kurt shrug his shoulders against his back where he lay wrapped around Blaine. "I just..."

Blaine turned over in his arms wanting to see his face, wanting any indicators as to what was going on in his boyfriends mind. "Tell me Kurt, please... I want to understand."

"I just... I don't feel like this is my home anymore. For months, all I could do was dream of coming back to this place, back to you here, but things here are so different. Not just the house or the animals being gone." Kurt paused; Blaine wanted to ask more but could see that Kurt was trying to form his thoughts into words, so he kept silent. "When I left this was my place, it was what I wanted it to be... but now, it's Quinn and Puck's home and I feel like we are intruding. I don't feel like I belong here. I don't know where I want to go, but I think that I have overstayed my welcome."

"Did Puck or Quinn," Blaine began to ask his anger growing, before being silenced by a finger to his lips. Since their first night back, neither boy had spoken much to the others. Puck was gone from the house early in the morning only returning once the sun had long set. Once he was back, he only had eyes for Quinn and Beth Blaine was certain now that they were together, either something sparked by long months together at the farm or rekindled by the same, he wasn't sure. During the day, Quinn would sit at the sewing machine mending and piecing together clothes for the local seamstress. Rather than be in the way, Kurt and Blaine spent most of their time out in the woods with Doc. Blaine wasn't sure what the other couple thought about their being here with them.

Kurt kissed away Blaine's scowl. "Neither have said anything, but honestly they would be well within their rights if they did. I did sell the farm to Quinn,"

"For five bucks." Blaine mumbled.

Kurt laughed earning a smile from Blaine. "The price doesn't matter, not to me. I sold the farm to her and I was gone for so long, I can't really blame them for wanting to make it their home. I just don't feel like I should be a part of it."

"But how long has this land been in your family Kurt?" Blaine asked. He couldn't imagine Kurt wanting to leave, not after having to work so hard to convince him after Mrs. Hudson's first visit.

"I can talk to them; make sure that if they sell the land can get first chance."

"We?" Blaine asked with a smile, hardly able to believe what Kurt was implying.

"Yes we, silly." He said returning the smile with the same light in his eye Blaine knew he had. "What I am saying is that it really doesn't matter as much to me anymore. What made this place special was never the dirt it sat upon, but the people who made it a home. My family is all gone; they are nothing more than memories, which I can take with me no matter what. What makes this place special is you... and I hope that maybe, we can find our own special place together. I don't know where that will be but I think I am ready to go find it."

Blaine could feel a new apprehension growing though, "but before you said we wouldn't be safe. Can we find a place where we can still be together?"

Kurt's hand lifted to caress Blaine's cheek. "I don't know, but from what you said things might be changing at least a little bit. We are both still young enough that if we can't find a safe place, we can still appear as roommates or something without raising eyebrows... I want to try though "

They lay together like that for most of the night talking about possible places they could go. Chicago had passes a law a couple of years prior lifting the ban on sodomy. They had both heard that San Francisco was a safer place. Other towns kept being mentioned, New Orleans, Los Angeles, and New York. Kurt had money saved up from his tour of duty, and Blaine knew that his mother would ensure he received his trust even if he never returned to college, but only one place they talked about had even the prospect of a job for either of them. Sleepily they crept downstairs, without an ounce of sleep between them to talk to Puck.

Puck shared all the information he had about John Grady and his friend. When they shared with him their plan, he tried to argue that they were of course welcome at the farm; it was their home as much as it was his. When he saw however that they were resolute in their plan, he insisted they use the phone to contact John right away, the long distance cost not mattering in the least. Things seemed to happen at a whirlwind pace after that. Blaine's Mustang was soon overflowing with paintings, art supplies and two bags of clothes. There was barely room for the two men and Doc to fit inside, but neither cared, they were filled with such hope and excitement for this new journey, they had decided upon. Before making their way out of Ohio, they had a few stops to make.

Carole Hudson was tears eyed when they bid her goodbye. She pulled both men into her arms and held them tightly in their turn. Blaine was surprised that she held him just as long and hard as she did Kurt. She made them promise to write and call as much as possible, before letting them go with a kiss.

Mr. Rudd seemed surprised to find the two of them on his doorstep when he answered their knock, but let Judy come and speak to them on the front porch with little reluctance. Her arms flung around Kurt murmuring thanks that he was safe when she recognized him standing next to Blaine. She made Blaine promise to let her know if New York was really a place where she could be safe.

Blaine felt bad for skipping his own parent's house in favor of only visiting his brother, but he couldn't face them. He wasn't afraid of seeing more disappointment in their eyes, he had grown used to the fact that his father would never look on him with pride. He just didn't want them tainting the excitement he felt for their decision. Rather than face them, he left a note telling them of his plan to make it in New York.

Cooper had his own news, which made Blaine doubly glad he had decided to bypass his parents in their goodbyes; he was quitting the law firm and moving to LA. He laughed when he told Blaine, "I always wanted to work in entertainment. I am interviewing with a law firm that specializes in entertainment law."

Their goodbyes complete they crammed back in the car and slowly made their way to New York.

John Grady was nothing like Kurt or Blaine expected. Although Puck had been insistent that the man was no hippie, with the other tidbits of information he had given them, they expected him to be a sort of free spirit. However, when he opened the door of his Greenwich Village apartment to them no other descriptor seemed further from the truth. He was a small man, even a few inches shorter than Blaine was, with neatly parted dirty blond hair and small muddy brown eyes hidden behind coke bottle glasses. His suit was still neatly pressed and rigidly done up even though it was already after nine at night. His smile was friendly though when he greeted them, though it was as reserved as the rest of him.

"You must be Kurt." He said though he looked at Blaine.

Blaine couldn't help the bubble of laughter as he replied. "As flattered as I am that I look like the hippie artist type, I'm afraid I am not a fraction as talented at art as Kurt. No, I'm Blaine, this is Kurt." He gestured over to Kurt who promptly held his hand out to be shaken.

"I'm afraid I still have a bit of time before my hair is back to its full glory." Kurt smiled as he flipped his now ear length hair. "But I am Kurt. Thank you for meeting us. I know that you wanted to do this a year ago..."

Kurt trailed off, Blaine knew that he didn't want to discuss further of the circumstances of the delay. John however, didn't pick up on the signal. "Yes, I remember your friend saying something about you being drafted now. But you are here now. My friend with the gallery should be here in about an hour, please come in." It was then John spotted Doc sitting calmly, for once, behind them in the hall. Although he gave him a wary look, he didn't say anything.

It was hard for Blaine to sit next to Kurt on the couch and not be able to reach a hand over to grab his, or to scoot as close to him as possible. He had to remind himself that they were no longer in the safety of the farm. New York may have been the starting place of a 'gay revolution' but not that much had changed yet. They sat making small talk, mainly about the drive from Ohio. None of the three were comfortable, tension was high, but they all tried nonetheless. The tension was shattered however when a fourth man burst into the apartment without even a knock.

"Johnny boy, I tell you it is an absolute mess out there. Not a cab in sight and I had to walk here in my brand new shoes. I know what you're going to say, it is only ten blocks, but believe me honey these shoes are for looking good, not for trekking around the city. Not only that but I nearly ran into Carlos, I don't know why the Latins have such a great reputation as lovers, because he certainly doesn't know a dick from a whole in the ground." The new comer was the polar opposite of John. There was nothing reserved about this man, he wore tight fitting pants, with a lavender shirt open at the neck, a floral scarf concealing what the shirt failed to cover. His hair was blond and expertly styled and he flounced around the room until he turned to face the couch and is eyes landed on Kurt and Blaine on the couch.

Blaine glanced over at Kurt who was doing little to hide his shock. His hand was placed over his chest, and Blaine was sure the initial boom of the door had nearly sent him into a panic, but his eyes were now focused on the man in front of him with wonder. Blaine knew his mouth had fallen open listening to the man rant with such a fond lilt to his voice. He quickly shut it and turned his face to John.

John looked petrified. There was no other way to describe it; he looked like this other man was there to murder them. "Gabriel," he said in warning before looking pointedly at Kurt and Blaine.

"Is this the artist then?" Gabriel asked, apparently not as worried about whatever John was. When John didn't answer, after half a second Gabriel continued, "oh come on John, get the stick out if your ass, didn't his friend tell us he was a queer too. If we can't be campy around our own can, where is the fun?" He turned to the couple on the couch then with a smile. "Hello there, I am Gabriel Milan. And can I say it is a pleasure to meet you. Aren't you two just the prettiest things I have ever seen. Maybe this can be more pleasure than I had hoped."

Gabriel's obvious interest made Blaine squirm. It was new and unwelcome, and furthermore not just directed at him, but Kurt as well. Gabriel's gaze made him uneasy.

"I don't think that will work out." Kurt said, his voice strong and held back with a forced calm. "I came here to talk about my art not to have you proposition me and my boyfriend."

Hearing Kurt say that word aloud, and to total strangers made Blaine's heart leap. He had always wanted to shout from the rooftops his love for Kurt. While shouting it may still be out of order he could still proclaim it when necessary. And apparently Kurt felt the same way.

"Ooo, boyfriends," Gabriel cooed, "how... nice. Well if you're sure let's see what you do have to show me." He gestured to the box of paintings Kurt had grabbed from the car. Blaine wondered at the odd expression that Gabriel had on his face but decided to let it pass.

Gabriel's cooing became more genuine as he looked over the paintings Kurt had brought with him. He marveled at the larger pictures of the larger paintings and sculptures they had to leave back in Ohio. He demanded to see more so the four men unloaded the car completely not wanting to leave piece out by accident. A new spark came to Kurt's eyes as he talked about his art. It was something that had been missing since Kurt left all those months ago. Blaine could see inspiration flowing back through him.

Gabriel grabbed a sketchbook from a box that held mostly Kurt's art supplies and before anyone could say a word began flipping through him. Kurt tensed it was his latest sketchpad, the one that help drawings some of which Kurt hadn't even shown Blaine yet. Blaine knew that in that book housed representations of all the memories that haunted Kurt from his tour in Vietnam. If Gabriel saw something that shocked him he didn't let on, his face remained its normal glow of excitement. After flipping a few more pages, he set the book down on the coffee table in front of him. Blaine could see Kurt itching to take it, but Gabriel's words stopped him in his track. "I think it is indeed going to be a pleasure doing business with you Kurt. Now let's talk logistic."

Before the sun rose the next morning, Gabriel and Kurt had struck a deal to open a gallery showing of Kurt's work in six months. Gabriel wanted more pieces to show and urged Kurt to keep working and building a collection. The boys knew they didn't want to go back to Ohio, but also knew they couldn't crash at John's place for six months. When they voiced their concerns Gabriel just smiled at them and said, "Let Auntie Gabby take care of you boys, I think there is a place you ought to see."

That was how in just three days Blaine found himself on a ferry with Kurt beside them looking out over the waters of the Great South Bay. Gabriel and a reluctant John were seated behind them as they made their way to the island. Blaine almost couldn't believe the stories they told him were true. It was just too unbelievable. He was trying to keep his excitement in check. As they lay close together on John's couch, whispered words between them as John slept soundly in his own room; they had talked about the possibilities if Gabriel had been telling the truth. Only in those moments had Blaine allowed himself to dream.

Blaine still held himself back from being overly eager. Beside him, Kurt was as tense as he ever was in public anymore. It wasn't until they veered from the boardwalk, there were no streets it was a pedestrian only island, that the truth of Gabriel's words hit him. Under the bright sun, in the middle of a crowded beach, two men chased each other over the sand. Blaine's eyes were drawn to them as playful shrieks floated over the din of the other beach goers. Then he saw it, one of the men caught the other around the waist and with a laugh planted a kiss firmly on his lips. Before the kiss could end, he grabbed Kurt's hand and gestured over to them. Kurt's smile lit his entire face. "Welcome to Fire Island," Gabriel whispered with pride.

Before the weekend was over, Kurt and Blaine both knew that this was their new haven, their new home and had a place to stay until they could find a house of their own.

They ended up settling in Cherry Grove in a small but open house. One of Gabriel's friends was more than eager to lend his expertise as a real estate agent. It was a little disheartening that only Kurt's name would be on the deed, but Blaine chose to focus on the positive rather that dwell on what he couldn't change. Seeing Kurt swell with pride as he wrote a check for the total amount of the house (little was left in the account but that didn't matter to Kurt) made up for his anonymity in the process. Blaine sold his car, not needing it anymore and happily furnished their new home. They shared a bedroom and decorated another as a guest room, feeling free in the knowledge it would never have to be used as a disguise. The third room was set up as a studio for Kurt to work in.

They didn't spend much time inside, Kurt preferring to paint outside in the back yard or on the beach. Soon they became known around the island. Cherry Grove was while a place they could finally be themselves, open and honest, was not a paradise. They were still an oddity. They received many strange looks when they turned down the many proposals for flings or a third in their bed. The soon realized that even in the gay world they were seen as oddities. Most of their new friends and acquaintances preferred open relationships or having numerous lovers to monogamy. Blaine never regretted his decision to pair only with Kurt; he knew what life without Kurt by his side felt like and didn't feel the need for variety the others seemed to. He was happy when they began to be known as the 'old marrieds' around the island even if he knew that was something they would probably never be able to do. So, while not perfect the two were content.

Kurt painted and created, working on building a substantial collection. It was almost like being back at the farm. However, while Kurt was busy throwing himself back in his art, Blaine started to become restless. As the months wore on, he felt useless, nothing to do, not able to contribute to their life beside with his love was beginning to eat at him. Kurt was receiving a stipend from Gabriel in anticipation for his opening. They were content with what they had, but Blaine still grew antsy.

All that ended in a whirlwind of a day. It started with a trip into town to grab some groceries while Kurt was holed up in his studio working on yet another painting. As he walked down the boardwalk a large paper bag in each hand he noticed a sign hanging in the window on a building; 'Help Wanted'. He knew the building well, like he did most of the small community, it was the Cherry Grove Gazette. Unmindful of his packages he pushed his way through the door and began talking to the older gentleman inside.

George Kaufman was wary at first at taking on this barely nineteen-year-old college drop out. However, the more he talked to him the more he felt like he would be the right choice. It was hard finding writers for his small newspaper, Cherry Grove was not the place that most young writers flocked to. He saw eagerness in Blaine Anderson, along with a passion for writing few others had. So not even two hours from putting the sign in his window after making the decision that he was getting too old to traipse around the island looking up stories, he shook a man's hand offering him the job.

Blaine bounded into the house, and shoved the groceries on the kitchen counter before rushing to the studio calling Kurt's name as he flung the door open. Kurt stared at him with panic, but Blaine was so caught up in his enthusiasm he didn't notices. He lunged toward Kurt pulling him into a hug and spinning him around, unmindful of the paint he was smearing on his shirt, all the while babbling, "Oh my god, Kurt you'll never guess."

When he finally set Kurt down and looked him in the eyes, Kurt had gotten over the shock of Blaine bursting into the room. "I got a job," Blaine crowed before launching into the story.

That night as they sat at their small table eating a celebratory meal, their phone rang. Not many people had the number, only John, Gabriel, Puck and Quinn, Judy, Carole, and Cooper. Blaine never would have imagined what the phone call was about.

"Hey Squirt." Cooper practically yelled over the line. After a few pleasantries, Cooper finally got to the reason he called. "So while we were packing, I found something in your old room. I know I probably shouldn't have read it, but well… you never really talked to be when you were here and I was… I was curious dammit. Anyway, it was good, I mean not the kind of story I would normally read, but the writing was fantastic."

"Um, Thanks Coop?" Blaine said at a loss for why his brother felt the need to spend so much money on a phone call when he could have just written to him about invading his privacy and praising what he found.

"That's not all. I showed it to one of the guys here who knows a guy. And… they want to publish it. Gay books are not big sellers but they do alright."

Things were looking up to Kurt and Blaine at last.

**AN: I will post the epilogue tonight when I get home. I cant believe it is almost over. I accelerated my posting schedule because you have all been wonderful and so enthusiastic. Thank you for all your wonderful words. They have meant the world to me. **


	22. Epilogue

Blaine's shoulder was bothering him. Most days it was only a little stiff, but days like this made him feel his age. Sixty-two was no spring chicken, but he didn't feel like he could really be that old, until days like this when he could feel each year in his bones.

He sat there rubbing the new ointment into his shoulder, thankful not for the first time that it was odorless, and thought over the last forty-four years. Meeting Kurt seemed so much like fate. It wasn't perfect, never had been; but no one could deny it was love.

Over the years, they had seen so much. Kurt's continued struggle with his memories, his small fame for his art. After the gallery opening, Kurt was shocked by the number of painting he sold for at least five times the amount Puck could gather puttering around the country. From that point on he was a real working artist, painting for new collections and gallery showings, as well as commissioned pieces. He set his own schedule and continued to do what he loved, all the while making enough money to keep them comfortable in their life in Cherry Grove. They stayed in the same house, weathering each storm and change in the community, content with their small home.

Blaine's novel sold well for what it was, but he never became a household name. He was happy writing for The Cherry Grove Gazette. Later when George finally retired, he took over the newspaper completely, hiring a small staff to help him out. He did a few freelance articles, but nothing of note. It wasn't until the darkest part of their time together that anyone outside of their small community really took note of Blaine Anderson.

When their friends started getting sick in the early eighties, they didn't know what to do. They feared for themselves and each other when the name Gay Cancer began to be spread. When more was known about the disease, they couldn't help but hold on to each other saddened for their friends , their community, but relieved they just might be safe. Kurt worked diligently taking care of friends and volunteering at hospices, hoping to ease someone's pain and loneliness. Blaine tried to come to but after losing three men in one week, he just couldn't handle it anymore. Blaine marveled at Kurt's strength and compassion that he could sit next to dying men day after day, many of whom he hadn't met until they fell ill, and still keep going every day. He knew that art was an outlet, and Kurt would come home some days crying as he worked on more and more elaborate pieces.

It wasn't until the religious right began spouting about AIDS being God's way of punishing the gays that he finally knew something he could do. It was no small feat getting an article published by Time Magazine, but Blaine Anderson did. His article on the vilification and victimization of gays in the modern world was compelling, well thought, and had enough of a personal touch to grip most of America. It wasn't without consequences. After being on unsteady ground with his parents for years, even without them knowing without a doubt the true nature of his relationship with Kurt, the article was the last straw. Mr. Anderson even tried to sue Blaine for reimbursement of the trust fund he had given him years before after proof of his gainful employment. He tried to argue that it was given under false pretense. The final straw in the divide was when Cooper swore to act as Blaine's lawyer. What was surprising though was where Mrs. Anderson fell in the divide. He never would have guessed his mother would accept him with open arms.

When the AIDS quilt was laid out in the Mall at Washington DC, many squares painted by Kurt were among them. Each person he met in hospice, each friend they had lost hundreds in total, all had something painted just for them by Kurt. Some it was the only thing they had while more remembered others.

Over the years, they lost too many people, friends to AIDS, friends to cancer and other diseases. They lost Carole just last year, her health declining for many years before that. Their lives were not sad though. They had each other, and a small group of close friends in New York. They still kept in touch with their friends in Ohio, and tried to make it out at least every couple of years. Judy moved to New York after graduation, while Puck and Quinn still lived on the farm with their children bringing their grandbabies as often as possible.

Kurt refused to see any one he met in the Army, though he received many invitations to reunions and get-togethers. He closed that chapter of his life long before and could bare to revisit it. Blaine never set foot on Kent State again either, so he couldn't blame him either.

Once Blaine finished running the ointment on his shoulder, he looked at the time and knew he had to hurry if he wasn't going to be late. He looked at himself in the mirror as he dressed himself. His hair was still as curly as ever, but was cut short and was white than black anymore. His face was lined; deep wrinkles cut into the skin around his eyes and mouth a testament to his happy life. He had loved Kurt for over forty years, and while things hadn't always been perfect, they had fought like any other couple. He felt blessed in his life. He tied his tie in place and walked out of the room. Cooper stood in waiting for him, looking too old to be possible. They walked to the beach together.

Music swelled as they approached, and there, the sea lapping the shore behind him stood Kurt, just as handsome as the day they met. His hair was short, only greying at the temples, and swept up artfully off his forehead. His eyes crinkled as he smiled back at Blaine his linen suit just darker than the wet sand around his bare feet. He had a cane gripped in one hand, the aches in his bone just as deep as Blaine's but happiness was all that his features read.

After forty-four years together, they finally could be the 'old marrieds' they were teased about being. It had taken a lot for them to get here, years of struggle and fight just to be who they are and to love each other openly. The pictures of their kiss circulated the world round. Headlines declared "Couple wed after DOMA repeal: Beach Wedding for Vietnam vet to longtime lover." To Kurt and Blaine though, their wedding wasn't about winning a fight against oppression, but finally being one in the eyes of the law, like they had felt for almost fifty years. They would continue to be each other's shelter, each other's love, each other's life. They could finally live happily ever after.


End file.
